In The Light He Will Fly
by AliceTheBrave
Summary: When Hinata's father comes home from his business trip, the Karasuno Boy's Volleyball Team discovers that there's a lot more on their decoy spiker's mind than the game. Life's hard when you're planning to go professional while juggling the family business. Hinata wishes his family could've owned a little shop like Coach Ukai's.
1. A Hero's Return

The smack of skin on leather ripped through the thick air, heavy with sweat and intent.

He saw it. The other side of the net, the sun pouring throughout the windows onto the polished wood. The sky outside that window, blue and vast; never ending and full of promise. He saw the faces of the other team, desperation contorting into panic and fear before being overtaken by awe. He saw the way they rocked back on their heels, minds entranced but their bodies too conditioned to not move into the next position.

He saw the faint breeze in the room as it whispered through their hair and he saw the light fracture through every drop of sweat. He saw and he felt. All with painful clarity.

The burn in his limbs, the beating in his chest, the rush in his veins.

He heard every breath from every lung in the room, the singing of the blood through them. Asahi - a soft tenor running desperately with a gentle wavering, Captain Daichi - a reassuring bass, fast and sure and every bit as breathless as the other team. The others - Suga, Tsukishima, Noya, Tanaka, Enoshita - the other team - the terror in their blockers blood and the awe in their captains. He smelled the ever constant pride and faint shock of his coaches and the star-struck delight of Yachi.

He could taste his setter.

Kageyama's blood ran and stopped at the same time. His breath left him in a quiet hush and his eyes watched him with all the attention of a man witnessing a miracle. He tasted like pride, and surety. Amazement and reassurement. Effort and skill. He tasted like rain and snow and cool spring days and a song he thought he might have known a long time ago. He tasted like victory and here and now and he thought that he could fly for years on that taste and those eyes.

The sharp snap of leather against polished wood announced his decent and the other team watched him land almost reverently.

His sneakers met the wood and his knees bent to carry the momentum. He felt the air still as the ball rolled toward the far wall. Slowly he took a deep breath, the feeling of movement returning to him as the moment when he saw the other side passed.

Like it always does. Standing, he looked toward the other team and he vaguely registered their faces growing paler and their knees trembling as they watched him. He watched them also, waiting for them to make a move. All of them watched him just as intently, each with panic in their stance and wariness in their eyes.

Suddenly a whistle blew loud and sharp against the oppressive silence. He found himself blinking and suddenly he couldn't be bothered to watch the other team's fears slither up their spines.

Turning around quickly - his amber eyes going soft instead of the sharp false-gold his mother always complimented him on - he smiled broadly. His team smiled back, running toward him with shouts on their lips. Slaps on the back, and ruffles of his hair, and hugs, and a less snarky than usual jab from the moon blocker and he thought he felt the arms of a certain setter for a moment before they too were lost in the mess.

"Match point! Karasuno wins!"

* * *

Pushing the cart full of volley balls into the storage locker he felt eyes watching him. This wasn't new. There was always someone watching him, and more often than not these eyes were the main culprit. He knew better than to ask why he was staring; that was a fight he didn't want to relive. Turning around, a pout on his face, he walked toward Kageyama stiffly.

"Need something?"

The taller boy simply blinked at him before tilting his head to the side.

"What's up with you today?"

Hinata startled slightly before crossing his arms, jutting out his bottom lip, and huffing in feigned irritation.  
He noticed the way Kageyama followed the movement and he wondered whether he was watching his hands or his face. Deciding it didn't really matter, he placed a hand on his hip in challenge.

"Something exciting, not that it's any of _your_ business."

He watched in delight as the blue eyes that had been watching him snapped down to meet his gaze.  
The setter had that look again. The one he wore when he wanted to start a fight. Hinata was proud to admit that he had become somewhat of an expert on the taller boy's expressions. Not that it brought him any closer to figuring out what the setter was thinking. He saw an angry flare in those blue eyes and revelled in the way the King's body tensed in the way it did right before he threw an insult.

Kageyama opened his mouth, a sneer on his lips, before thinking better of it and turning away sharply. Walking a few paces away, he bent to pick up his bag and sling it over his shoulder leaving a confused red-head staring after him.

Glaring at the smaller boy from the corner of his eye, Kageyama shuffled almost nervously, trying to leave but not willing to let the conversation die.

"You seemed off today. Jittery."

He'd noticed when the excitable spiker had come peddling into school, with that wobbly smile he got on his face whenever something extremely pleasing happened. Further, he'd spent the day humming that stupid song that was on the radio all the time and zoning out even during warm ups. At first Kageyama had thought that he was just excited for their practice match against a neighboring school, but even after the game was over he still had that dazed atmosphere. Whatever it was he doubted the other would stay quiet for long.

His suspicions seemed correct when the smaller boy blinked owlishly at him before the wobbly smile returned with a slight flush this time. Kageyama's eye twitched and he told himself that the guy was just flushing in that way he did when he was excited.

"Yeah. Something exciting."

He replied with a faraway look in his eyes. Kageyama gripped his bag just a little tighter, trying to figure out how to ask for more information without sounding invested in the answer. Before he had the chance it was taken from him.

"Exciting? Don't tell me our little Hinata finally caught himself a date!"

Tanaka was as obnoxiously invested in any and every hint of romance within the vicinity of his teammates as he ever was. Kageyama sometimes wondered if the thought of pretty girls was his only drive to live. At his loud exclamation Hinata's face had gone tight with shock and red from embarrassment. Nishinoya, hearing the word date, bounced his way across the gym from where he was encouraging an uncertain Asahi.

"Who's got a date?", the libero asked with a suggestive movement of his eyebrows. Hinata opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by an energetic Tanaka.

"Hinata does!"

Hinata's brows furrowed further and it occurred to him that he very suddenly had no say in this conversation. Nishinoya's eyes sparkled with interest and he turned sharply toward Hinata, moving to throw his arm over him conspiratorially.

"When? Where? What are they like? Are they hot? I bet they're really cute. C'mon spill it Hinata!"

Tanaka sidled up to the other side of Hinata - jostling Kageyama farther away- and did the same.

"Who asked who out? I bet they asked you. Where are you going? Dinner? A movie?"

A loud snort sounded from somewhere far to their left and they found Tsukishima next to Yamaguchi, slinging his bag over his shoulder. Tsukishima had a sly grin on his face, the one Hinata knew he only wore when he was especially proud of a witty joke. Yamaguchi had a long-suffering frown on his freckled face, a resigned sigh already leaving his lips. He knew what was coming and he knew better than to try to mediate.

"The idiot would probably take his date to play volleyball." Tsukishima snickered to himself and Yamaguchi valiantly tried to not crack a smile.

Hinata's face went even redder in both embarrassment and anger. Tanaka and Nishinoya broke out into raucous laughter as they agreed noisily, making Hinata somehow more embarrassed than angry, and finally let go of him to dramatically laugh all over the sweaty gym floor.

Hinata was about to retort that he wouldn't do that but stopped short when he realized that playing his favorite sport with his favorite person didn't seem like a bad idea. He blushed harder at the incriminating thought. Kageyama stood to the side, confused as to why the idea was so funny to them. It was always good to practice any chance you got.

Yamaguchi - still holding back a chuckle - tugged at Tsukishima's sleeve as he moved to walk out the door. Tsukishima nodded and moved with him, a sadistic smirk still painting his sharp face. Kageyama wondered why they always felt the need to leave together after making fun of them. Hinata didn't have to.

Finally having enough he spoke up.

"I'm not actually going on a date. I never said that."

Kageyama tried to ignore the relief that loosed his muscles as he noted the petulant pout on the other boys face. Nishinoya and Tanaka were still to busy rolling in their amusement to hear him and Hinata huffed, irritated. Suga smiled reassuringly as he walked over to pat Hinata's shoulder comfortingly.  
Hinata looked at him gratefully with a fond smile. Kageyama wondered how he could still adore their upperclassman as much as he did after seeing them like this far too often. He huffed at the thought that it was because Hinata had far too much affection for everyone to be thrown off by their childish actions.

"What is the occasion? If you don't mind me asking."

Suga was all innocent curiosity and interest as he spoke. Daichi walked up next to him, adjusting his bag and raising his brow in a way that suggested he was curious too. That same wobbly smile came to Hinata's face as he turned toward them brightly. He tilted his head to the side slightly in a way the made Kageyama wonder if the hair on Hinata's neck had always been so fine.

"My old man's coming home today!"

* * *

 _"Let our family return home with every seat filled."_


	2. What We Are

Kageyama was always one to mind his business. He once heard his mother bragging to other parents at a Parent -Teacher interview.

"Tobio's so good with his manners! He always says 'please' and 'thank you' and he always minds his place! He never bothers the other children with all that nosiness." He distinctly remembers the dubious expressions on the others parents faces.

He supposed his mother was to focusedÂ on admiring how amazing her son was to actually realize that he simply didn't care. He was too busy fiddling with his child's sized volley-ball and ordering the other children around the playground to care about 'all that nosiness'.

Then again, if she had realized she'd probably have chirped on about how he was 'a natural born leader' and 'so focused on his goals'. She was always so proud of her 'amazing little Tobio'. Even after the disaster that was his time at Kitagawa Daiichi she simply chirped on about how his team and coaches were 'so near-sighted and jealous' and how he was 'handling it so well! He'd never let anything so minor hold him back!'

He wasn't of course. Handling it well.

Not at all, really; but she hardly had time between her job and benefit parties to notice. She prided herself on being 'an upstanding member of society' and Kageyama knew that she had only the best intentions behind her oblivious behavior and incessant boasting.

Now though, he was beginning to regret his lack of interest in other people's personal lives.

Because now there was Hinata Shoyo.

Hinata Shoyo was a very open person. He knew he lived a ways away, he knew he peddled to school everyday - over a mountain, for the love of god -, and he knew he had a little sister. However, other than that he was forced to admit that he knew very little about his unlikely best-friend's personal life.

He didn't know his sister's name, or that of his parents. He didn't know if Hinata had always lived in the same house, or had moved. He didn't know if he had any pets or how he felt about his neighbors or if he even had any. He didn't know anything about his house - the guy could live in a box under a bridge or a mansion and he wouldn't have a clue.

And he certainly had no idea about Hinata's father.

He didn't know his name, or what he did, or if he was old or young. He didn't know why he was away for what seemed like a very long time, if he lived with Hinata, if he was married or if Hinata's parents had separated like his, and he certainty didn't know why his return had Hinata in such high spirits.

And all of that was very annoying.

Worse was the way that everyone else seemed to be slightly confused just like him. Because apparently no one had even been aware that Hinata's dad wasn't at home at this very moment. And they wouldn't. No one made it a habit to ask about anyone's personal lives beyond the ever constant 'are you dating anyone yet!?' from Tanaka. Still, the confusion didn't seem to bother the others as much as it did Kageyama.

And that too was very annoying.

Hinata seemed to realize his mistake as he bounced slightly to the left, readjusting the shoulder strap of his bag, and tossing his head shyly in the other direction. Yet another thing Kageyama didn't know was how his hair could be so spiky and fluffy at the same time.

Again, annoying.

"He's been on a business trip for a while," Hinata supplied brightly.

As if he thought it was the most wonderful news he'd ever heard. As if that was enough of an explanation. And to the others it seemed it was.

Kageyama didn't think so. A part of him wanted a thirty page essay on Hinata's entire family history while another was flinching at the thought of having to read Hinata's horrible writing.

"That's great, Hinata!" Encouraged Suga warmly before Kageyama could pry for more information.

The others murmured similar sentiments and Hinata blushed happily at the support. He had opted to ignore Kageyama's petulant grumbling to his left in favor of basking in the attention of his Captain and Vice-Captain. He smiled brightly as Daichi nodded his head in sympathy with Hinata's excitement, a fond smile on his tan face.

"Then you should hurry home to greet him, yeah?"He suggested this lightly, nudging Hinata's back toward the door. Hinata smiled brighter at that before nodding vigorously and grabbing his bag to run out the door. Turning to wave farewell he saw Kageyama distractedly walking to his side and waved excitedly to his team.

A chorus of good-byes rang behind him along with a bright 'Say hi to Papa-Hianta for me!' from Nishinoya.

Hinata giggled at that and out of the corner of his eye he saw Kageyama's brow twitch in the way it did when he heard him laugh.

He still hadn't figured out why he did that.

He unchained his bike from the rack and moved to walk next to Kageyama. He told himself that he did so because of the novelty of walking home together with the sun hardly setting. They would normally have stayed and practiced for a few more hours, the sun being long set by the time he crawled through his front door.

Glancing over at the setter to his right he laughed at the frighteningly intense scowl he wore. That, he was proud to know, was Kageyama's thinking face. The other boy was the possessor of a rare trait that lead any expression he made to be somehow threatening. Hinata was sure it had lead to many enemies and failed friendships over Kageyama's lifetime. It was the funniest thing in the world to him, though.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Kageyama turned to look at him pensively for a moment before looking resolutely forward. Hinata blinked for a few moments before it dawned on him that Kageyama was upset at him.

Somehow. He had no idea why.

He maneuvered himself closer to Kageyama's side, much closer than was entirely necessary, and looked up at his face questioningly.Â A smile crept across his face at the rose tint that crept across the other's. Hinata knew that Kageyama couldn't exactly handle it when he blatantly stared at him.

Perhaps the fact that he stared at him enough for that to be noticeable would have embarrassed him if he didn't find a flustered Kageyama so amusing. Besides he'd resigned himselfÂ to the fact that he wasn't exactly tactful when it came to his actions around his friends a long time ago.

Kageyama sharply looked somewhere up and to the left as if turning away would somehow deter his short companion. Hinata's grin only grew and he pressed that much closer until he was a hair's breadth away from being pressed into Kageyama's side. He loved to push Kageyama's tolerance for these things. The dark-haired boy never could seem to handle Hinata being too close. Hinata would be damned if he didn't milk that fact for all it was worth. Kageyama's eyes widened comically in subdued panic and Hinata made a humming sound in question.

"I didn't know your father was away."

Hinata leaned back and stared as he tried to decipher the rush of panicked words that had fallen from the setter's lips. He tilted his head in confusion as he nodded at Kageyama after comprehension settled in his mind.

"Well, yeah, I never told you."

Kageyama's brows furrowed as he turned to glare at Hinata accusingly, an unspoken ' _Why the hell not?_ ' between them. Hinata marveled at how quickly Kageyama's embarrassment faded from mind.

"You never asked. Why does it matter?"

Kageyama opened his mouth irritably, a scathing reply on his tongue before he stopped himself. Why did it matter to him? He hadn't really known anything about Hinata's personal life since the day they had met.

Although it had occurred to him to ask, he had never thought that anything would come of it. Hinata would more than likely have thrown him a suspicious glare, giving him vague answers, and interrogating him on how he thought that would trip him up.

He had assumed that nothing was all that unusual, for Hinata always seemed to be his same cheery self. Further he had never mentioned any disruptions in his family life or offered any information other than the bare basics. Kageyama had assumed that nothing was wrong because Hinata always was obvious when something was wrong.

Even more off-putting, he seemed like the type to brag about his father incessantly, God knows he bragged enough about his sister. But somehow, for some reason, Hinata had never mentioned the father who's return had him in such a tizzy. It seemed as though the man had sprung from thin air to sit upon some imaginary throne in his son's mind.

Hinata had never shown signs of any missing component in his life and had never even mentioned the father who, although missing, appeared to be a very big figure in the spiker's life. All this was highly suspicious to Kageyama, who liked to think he knew the boy rather well. Some immature part of him, the part that still turned it's nose up at every inconvenience, insisted that the man never existed and that Hinata was making the entire fiasco up for attention. Dismissing the ridiculous thought, he frowned deeper at the red-head.

"It's important to you."

They both blinked dumbly at the sudden words from Kageyama and the setter winced at the unspoken 'that makes it important to me'. Hinata stared in shock even after Kageyama had flushed and looked away, and even after he had started to walk again. Kageyama released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as he heard feet rushing up next to him accompanied by the muted squeak of the bike chain.

Glancing over subtly to see if Hinata still had that stupid look on his face - he'd hit him if he did - his flush deepened at the wobbly, almost dreamy, smile he wore. Snapping his gaze forward he resolutely looked ahead, willing himself not to think into it to much. Hinata was always a mushy puddle of emotions. Really it was worrying how open he could be at times.

"He's always on business trips, I didn't really think about it."

The admission from Hinata was unexpected, and Kageyama had turned toward him without thinking. He jolted, and turned ahead quickly when he realized that Hinata still wore that damned smile only now his cheeks were lightly flushed - it was from the slight nip in the air, of course - and he was looking shyly at his beat up sneakers.

Kageyama let out a noncommittal grunt, desperately looking ahead. Wow, did they repave this street recently? Looks like fall was rolling in, the air was getting cooler. That's definitely the only reason his face was so red. Why was Hinata so quiet? The silence seemed heavy, why was that? What was he supposed to say here?

"You don't really think a lot, anyway."

Shit. That was decidedly not what he was supposed to say in this situation.

Hinata turned to him sharply, a glare on his face twisted up in an indignant pout.

Kageyama did not miss that dreamy smile. Really, he didn't. Although the pout was nice too.

Hinata huffed and quickened his pace toward the bus station. When had they gotten this close? He stopped just short of the station, tapping his foot impatiently and leveling an annoyed glance at Kageyama. Kageyama hurried up to him before he stood silently next to him. Glancing at Hinata, he still looked pretty pissed. Dammit.

"Well at least I think a lot more than some gloomy bastard I know."

Kageyama bristled at the poorly veiled insult. A threatening smile spread over his face as he turned toward his shorter companion.

By the time the bus has pulled up and opened the doors, they had dissolved into a screaming match, pulling each other's hair while balancing Hinata's bike against the bus sign. Kageyama was still sneering insults as he boarded the bus, pass in hand and walking backwards in order to keep eye contact. In any other situation he'd have been embarrassed at the displeased glare he was getting from the driver and the confounded ones from the sparse passengers.

After taking his seat reluctantly the bus began to pull away when he caught sight of Hinata again. A goofy grin was spread across his face as he mouthed something before peddling away.

"See you tomorrow, Baka-yama!"

He was so caught up in thinking of his best insults that he didn't realize that a smile had spread across his face or question why Hinata always bothered to walk him to the station and wait with him.

If he had, his smile might have matched Hinata's as he made his way up the mountain to attend his father's welcome home party.

* * *

 _What is love? Two souls and one flesh; friendship? Two bodies and one soul."_


	3. Home Again

Homecomings had always been quite the event in the Hinata household.

A grand celebration was always held when a family member came home, no matter how distant or how long they had been gone. Hinata vaguely remembered once, when he was very young and his grandfather had still been alive, a distant cousin - third cousin on his grandfather's side he'd come to find - had come back from his three day trip to Guam.

The entire main house had been thrown into disarray, all plans cancelled and everyone ordered home immediately. Banners, lights, and food were ordered in surplus and every family member this side of Japan had assembled in the main hall. Dozens more from farther away were said to be flying in promptly or attending via conference call. He still laughed at the horrified look on the cousin's face when he came to the front gate to find a sea of Hinatas - dressed to the nines - waiting for him with smiles and glasses of wine and champagne. He'd dropped his luggage to hold his face in dismay at the chorus of 'Welcome Home'.

At the time he'd been delighted - any excuse to have a good time is valid to a child - but now he was able to recognize how absolutely absurd the entire tradition was. But he supposed his grandfather had been at the stage of his elderly years where hadn't really cared abut how ridiculous it all was. And the Hinata family were historically always ready to have a good time, a trait he knew he had inherited in spades. Now though, with his grandfather long since passed -rest his soul- and his father as family head things had quieted, at least for the main family.

When he was nine they had moved from their ancestral home to the quaint two story house he was pleased to call his.

They still held to the old traditions that never really made any sense to Shoyo. They all gathered at the main house on holidays, to celebrate important birthdays, and to hold funerals or baby showers. His father still ran most of the family business from the old mansion but he refused to have his children raised there. Shoyo's aunts and uncles had been rather bitter about the decision but had relented, agreeing that the simple upbringing and clean air of their humble home would benefit the children.

Hinata was grateful.

Moving here had led him to the friends and the school he now loved. He'd been able to see the Little Giant's game and join Karasuno years later.

He knew it would have been difficult to invite his friends over to help him practice all those years in middle school had he lived in a mansion. It wasn't until a few years ago that he realized the house he'd moved them to wasn't the only wayward decision his father had made about their upbringing.

His cousins, he'd found, had lived the charmed life of the elite class. Private schools and tutors and the acquisition of anything they wanted, no matter how absurd. Apparently this was the life his father and all of his aunts and uncles had been raised upon. They had butlers and chauffeurs and he had been horrified to find that one of his cousins had her mother hire a maid with her _exact_ measurements so she _wouldn't have to try on her own clothes_.

His father had decided, for what reason he couldn't imagine, that his children would not be so spoiled.

They went to the local schools and any extra tutoring was arranged through the school. They bought their clothes at the local mall or department store and the local grocer was the fanciest their daily meals ever got. If Shoyo wanted a phone or Natsu a new set of paints they had to earn it, through grades and behavior or earning the money on their own. They never had anything too expensive, the gift's he'd get from his relatives during holidays were occasionally so extravagant he'd been afraid to touch them.

That's not to say that their father deprived them of anything, whatever they needed they had and Shoyo could not think of a time where he had ever seriously wanted for anything more. They had a woman that came in every few days to check on them and their grandmother for his father while he was away and Shoyo wondered if his cousins would have considered her a servant.

Now his father was coming home from a business trip lasting several months and a party was in order. Being a simple man living by simple means Shoyo knew his father wouldn't have appreciated the grand parties the previous heads of the family were known for. This was something of a relief to Shoyo as it fell to him, as eldest son, to plan the party. They'd gotten the call last night that his father had spontaneously decided a vacation was in order and would be returning home by the next evening. It wasn't strange for his father to drop in without warning or to leave just as suddenly so Shoyo wasn't all that surprised.

They'd gone grocery shopping that evening, buying all the appropriate party foods and drinks. His grandmother - who looked after them in his father's absence - had elected to bake an absurdly intricate strawberry cake that he was sure was more for the challenge than for the actual result.

She was always telling him 'the joy is in the journey' and reminding him to try his best even if he didn't succeed. He'd found it was always easier to explain his determination in volleyball by comparing it to her baking. He'd wondered if she was a competitive baker in the past, if there even was such a thing. If there was he was sure she had been the champion.

Now as he dashed out of the garage, barely remembering to put away his bike, he could already smell the baking sweet. Bursting through the front door with a breathless flourish, he toed off his sneakers while shouting a hasty 'I'm home!'.

His entrance was met with the pounding of little feet from within the house. Instinctively bracing himself, he expertly swiveled in a half circle, negating the force of the impish body thrown into his arms. Giggling along with the tiny creature, in one fluid movement he had her securely in his arms and was making his way down the hall.

"Welcome home, big brother!"

"Thanks! How was school?"He questioned Natsu as he made their way to the kitchen where he could hear his grandmother humming loudly over an electric mixer.

"It was really boring like always. Oh! But today Kei finally told Raiki to stop bullying the little kids during recess!"

"Oh? What'd Raiki say, then?"

"He said that since he was older he got to play wherever he wanted and there was nothing she could do about it!"

"He didn't!" He gasped in mock disbelief as he entered the room.

His grandmother glanced at him over her shoulder, smiling and giving a soft 'welcome back' before turning back to her bowl. Peeking into it he saw that she was making some type of icing. Quickly swiping a finger full, he danced out of the way of his grandmother's scolding slap, and into a chair at the kitchen island.

"Uh-huh! And all of his friends were all huffy and big-pants'd about it!" She said with such indignation he couldn't help but giggle softly.

"I think you meant they were acting 'big in their britches'. Maybe you shouldn't talk like a grandma until you look like one, huh?"

Her little eyes lit up with anger and her fists pounded angrily at his shoulders.

"Mean! Big brother is so mean!"

"Oh come on, even when you get really old you'll still be the prettiest grandma in Japan!" He reassured her with a laugh and a tickle of the sides.

Suddenly a spoonful of icing was dabbed on his nose, interrupting their laughing fit.

"She'll still have to compete with me, mind you." Chided their grandmother jokingly.

"It'll be a really close contest, maybe even a tie!" He gasped out in mock awe.

Natsu erupted in a fit of laughter as his grandmother struck a pose that he supposed was meant to resemble a model. They soon dissolved into laughing fits before the children started to prepare dinner as their grandmother finished the last touches on her three tier masterpiece.

Soon enough the entire meal was complete and the table set. His grandmother had even deigned to pull out the good china, it'd been a family heirloom passed down from mother to daughter on her wedding day, and had insisted that they be extra careful throughout the meal. Natsu had drawn up a large banner reading 'Welcome Home Daddy!' in garish marker and crayon which they had hung across the wall with great zeal. The entire night's spread was arranged on the table and the ridiculously large cake waited on the kitchen island.

At the sound of tires in the driveway, they all shared a glance before the kids made a mad dash to the front door, their grandmother laughing as they almost tripped over each other in their haste. Arriving at the front entrance they stood in a cluster expectantly and Shoyo barely remembered to fix his hair before the door swung open.

Somehow they all managed to scream different renditions of 'Welcome Home' without breaking any windows. Unfortunately, Shoyo forgot how shrill his sister could be and found that his eardrums were not quite as lucky. Regardless, he managed to aim his brightest grin at the man that stood in the doorway, Shoyo's body practically vibrating with excitement.

He was met with a few startled blinks before the man grinned back just as brightly.

Crouching down in the doorway and dropping his bags, he barely had time to spread his arms before two masses of fiery hair bowled into him. Taking the force in stride the man managed to lift the two children into the air and squeeze hard enough to cause Shoyo to let out a groan before setting them back down gently. He ruffled both of their heads roughly while he huffed out a fond "It's good to be back."Natsu giggled loudly before going back in for another hug. Shoyo was content to let his father continue to run his hands through his hair.

"Welcome home, Shoube." Voiced his grandmother warmly from somewhere behind them.

Looking up to meet her gaze, his father gave another warm smile to the elderly woman. Standing slowly and picking Natsu up in the process he toed off his shoes - formal shoes to match his suit - and made his way over to her.

"Thanks Mom, it's good to be back."

The two exchanged a warm hug before lapsing into a conversation about his trip here.

Shoyo took the time to actually look at his father. It had been a few months since he'd seen him last but not much seemed to have changed. The man was a good foot taller than his son and stood with his shoulders habitually pushed back in a show of pride. His hair, short and unruly like his children's but an earthy brown in color, was always pushed back slightly and parted on the side in an effort to look more professional.

Shoyo always was amazed at the skill it must have taken to do such a thing every morning. His father had shown him once, years ago, but he'd never been able to do it quite right. His suit, a personally tailored English cut that must have been uncomfortable, was wrinkled around the collar and unbuttoned in it's entirety. Shoyo almost laughed as he realized that the man wore mismatched socks -one black and one white - and his tie had been sloppily done.

He must have been in quite the hurry to get home. His eyes - the same amber brown Shoyo had inherited - twinkled as he joked with his mother-in-law. The slight wrinkles around his eyes and lips showing his age and his tendency for expression. His eyes were sunk a little lower under his brow than Shoyo's and he wondered if they had always been that way and if he would grow to look so tired one day. Now that Shoyo looked closer, he could see the slight weariness in the bend of his father's knees and the way he shifted Natsu in his arms.

"Maybe we should go eat! The food's gonna get cold." He coaxed them giddily.

With whoops of agreement they made their way to the kitchen, his father's bags forgotten at the door. The man laughed raucously when he caught sight of the banner and the extravagant cake on the counter.

"Do you like my banner, Daddy!? I spent all lunch break on it! And I used the new markers you bought me!"

"Of course I like it! It's beautiful! Oh wow, look at that detail. Looks like I've got a little artist on my hands!"

He nuzzled her cheek playfully while Shoyo laughed at the crude drawing of the four of them holding hands under the sloppily written words. His grandmother ushered them into their seats, making sure Natsu was seated as close to her father as possible lest the girl climb out of her chair and onto his.

"The banner is lovely. And Shoyo made dinner practically on his own too." She supplied with a conspiratory wink.

His father turned to him with excitement and ruffled his hair once again.

"Look at my talented kids. Masters of skills I _still_ haven't got!" He laughed loudly as Shoyo blushed happily under the praise and Natsu giggled along.

"Alright, alright. Time to eat, dig in!" Hushed their grandmother before his father made a dive for the potatoes.

Luckily Shoyo was just as quick and before they knew it they were laughing as they fought for the bowl. Laughter filled the room as Natsu retold the adventures of her friend Kei and the bully Raiki, exaggerated movements and sounds interspersed.

Shoyo shared with his father his adventures at training camp and their upcoming battle against the fearsome Aoba Johsai in the Representative Playoffs. Even though he had told him all about them over the phone they both seemed to enjoy the story more in person with Shoyo giving fierce interpretations of players and their moves.

They spent the night telling stories and laughing, their grandmother making snide comments and his father contributing to her mirth.

Shoyo tried not to notice the way his father's eyes purposely skipped over the empty fifth chair at the end of the table.

 _"Home is people. Not a place. If you go back there after the people are gone, then all you can see is what is not there any more."_


	4. Prince and King

Shoyo's alarm startled him out of bed at four in the morning.

Scrambling to turn it off he almost tripped over his blanket and the pile of laundry on his floor. Clutching it tightly to his chest after he had halted the ungodly sound it emitted, he waited quietly to see if he had disturbed the rest of his family.

After nothing came of his waiting he placed the alarm down gently before dancing his way out of the tangle around his legs and off to the bathroom. After taking care of his morning routine and staring at his reflection dismally for a few minutes he trudged back to his room.

Walking to his closet he changed into his uniform sluggishly, deciding to wear a hoodie under his blazer since it was getting colder out. Grabbing his bag he quietly made his way out of his room and down the stairs. He would have to grab some breakfast for himself before he set out for school.

Some days he wished he could have skipped biking over the mountain entirely, but alas geography had never been his ally.

Slinking his way quietly into the kitchen he set his bag down before grabbing a banana and munching dazedly against the counter. Slowly he was beginning to grow more aware as the daze of sleep faded.

Kageyama would grumble at him for being such an early bird as he proceeded to stay dazed for a good half hour after waking. Shoyo felt a grin form on his face as he thought of the way he would have tried to start a fight and Kageyama would flounder dazedly for a mumbled response.

For one thing the King was anything but kingly in the morning. Training camp had been able to prove that much.

Finishing his short breakfast, he quickly downed a glass of water and turned to check the calendar to see everyone else's plans today. Natsu would be home early today because of a teacher training meeting or something and his father would be working with a nearby business partner most of the day.

Apparently vacation was a very lose term in the Hinata house. He would be expected home well after practice technically ended per usual. Nodding to himself he grabbed his phone from where he had left it to charge on the counter the night before and turned to make for his bag.

He was startled to be met with the sleepy face of his father. The two blinked at each other dumbly for a few minutes before both broke out into quiet laughter. Shoube smiled tiredly as he made his way to the coffee machine, ruffling Shoyo's hair on the way.

"Morning Dad."

"Mornin' kid. Early practice today?"

"Same time as usual. But there is that pesky lump of earth in the way, ya know."

The elder snorted amusedly as he sipped at the cup of coffee in his hands.

"You're still biking there?"

"No. I'm gonna fly, Dad."

Shoyo laughed as he clumsily caught a muffin that was thrown at his face.

"Too early for sarcasm, brat."

"Sorry, sorry," he said placatingly as he happily munched on the weaponized food.

Blueberry. Yum.

His father seemed to be considering something as he nursed his mug of coffee.

"I could probably drive you, if you want. I won't have to be ready until a while later anyway."

Shoyo blinked in surprise at the offer, muffin still stuffed in his mouth. Realizing he was going to need to answer he quickly removed the obstruction before chewing harshly and nodding.

"Yeah, that'd be great, thanks Dad!" He chirped as he beamed at the older man.

He laughed as Shoube winced and muttered 'too early for this shit' before downing the last of his coffee. Skipping after him when he motioned to follow lazily, Shoyo grabbed his bag on their way out of the kitchen.

Stopping to put on their shoes - "Not a chance," muttered Shoube to his Oxford's with disdain as he slammed his feet into some old neon green Crocs - they made their way out the front door.

Skipping his way to the garage and his grandmother's old Volkswagen he turned to thank his dad again only to be met with air. Confused he turned to check if he'd gone back inside before he was halted by a shout.

"Where you goin'?"

Looking over to the front of the driveway Shoyo was met with the sight of his Father - scruffy pajamas, ugly shoes, stubble, and bedhead in full force -standing on the driver's side of what must have been the most expensive machine Shoyo had ever seen. His soul practically left his body when he found that he recognized the logo on the front from a magazine a classmate had brought in once.

Rolls Royce.

Suddenly Shoyo rethought every decision he'd made this morning and the very notion of living 'the simple life'. Sometimes he really did forget that he was, by all accounts, filthy rich. Disgustingly so. Eyes still blown wide, he skittered over to the beast, glancing between it and his father the whole way.

"We're going... in this?"

His father blinked at him in confusion for a moment, before understanding seemed to strike him. He looked at the car in front of him, seeming to see it for the very first time. He looked back to his son and rubbed his neck, embarrassed.

"I wasn't really thinking. Sorry. But I mean, it's not like anyone's going to be there to see right?"

The more Shoyo stared in disbelief the more Shoube seemed to rethink the entire idea of driving him. Both were fairly sure that giving your son a ride to school shouldn't be this stressful. Shoube was just about to suggest that they go find the keys to his mother-in-laws beat up Wagon when Shoyo interrupted him.

"I guess not. I'm always there early, so... yeah. It should be fine?"

Shoube nodded dumbly before he slowly climbed into the car, Shoyo moving just as slowly to follow. Once inside, Shoube gave it a moment before he started the engine, letting his son get over at least a little bit of his awe. Eventually the were well on their way, the tense air forgotten as Shoyo began to fiddle with buttons and levers.

"What's the model? Do Rolls Royce even have models?"

"What? Of course they do. It's a Wraith. Wraith Black Badge."

"Woah. That sounds super cool."

"I know, right? It looks damn cool, too."

"Yeah, it's all 'swishh' and mysterious, ya know?"

"Exactly! I told my assistant to just get a car that he thought suited me and I've gotta say, I'm flattered as hell."

"I would be! How much did it cost?"

"Hmmm, starting price was $35,000 U.S. I think."

Suddenly the tense air was back and Shoube realized that was a supremely stupid thing to say.

"How... how much is that in Yen?"

"... Roughly... I don't know, kid... 36 million?" He mumbled, more a question than an answer, glancing between the road and his son the entire time. He quickly tried to recall the Japanese emergency number and if he'd brought any ID with him. Shoyo was certain his soul had finally escaped it's flesh prison.

Pulling up to the school gates, Shoube leaned over to shake Shoyo roughly, valiantly trying not to panic.

The boy had been staring at him, mouth agape with empty eyes for the past minute or so and the shade of his skin was alarming.

Starting. He's said _starting price_.

With all the bells and whistles this much have cost much more than _starting price_. Shoyo finally remembered to blink and swallowed thickly before assuring his dad that he was fine. Silence swallowed them as Shoube avoided his gaze skittishly.

"That's... That's a lot of money, Dad," Shoyo whispered into the air, like he was almost afraid to breath. What if the moisture damaged the leather or something? That could happen right?

"Yeah. It really is." Came the strangled reply. Shoyo almost choked on his spit as a terrifying thought occurred to him.

"This isn't the most expensive car you own is it?"

The silence was incriminating.

"How.. how much? Your most expensive... how much?"

Shoyo wasn't sure he wanted to know. Really he wasn't.

"I.. I'm not really into cars as much as your uncle, ya know? Some of his cars- I mean _a lot_ of his cars- I mean _wow_ he drops some serious cash on those things. Like real high numb-"

"Dad."

"...Bugatti Veyron."

"And?"

"$2.5 million U.S."

The silence was suffocating. Shoyo couldn't stop staring. Really he tried not to.

"Y-yen?"

It was almost a whimper by this point. Shoube looked at him, ashamed and concerned. This was _not_ how he intended this little bonding session to go.

"Two..."

Shoyo waited as his father seemed to panic even more. Sighing deeply, he resigned himself to his fate, and grabbed onto his dad's arm lightly. Shoube looked at him, startled. Shoyo nodded back reassuringly.

"Two billion and some."

Shoyo promptly passed out.

Ten minutes later and several dramatic renditions of a father's loss that would put the best tragedy to shame, and Shoyo was conscious and breathing into a paper bag. Shoube had dissolved into a fit of laughter after he had been convinced that his son wasn't actually going to die.

"D-dad! Why- What- What the actual hell!?"

"Oh come on, Shoyo! It's not like you _didn't_ know we were loaded."

Shoyo flushed in embarrassment at being reminded that he had, at least on some level, expected some kind of extravagance from his father's return.

He always had nice things when he came home; it was necessary to at least pretend that he cared about money and status when conducting business. Still, Shoyo had never been privy to the extent of his families wealth and he had assumed that like the mansion, most things had been inherited. He was apparently _very_ wrong.

"Don't dwell on it, kid. As you get older I'll ease you into the business. Don't worry about that or the money. It's not like it really changes anything, right?"Shoube reassured with a hand on his shoulder. Shoyo nodded along with a sigh that didn't quite convince his father.

"Just focus on your volleyball, okay? You said you were going to be the next Little Giant; maybe you'll even go pro! Wouldn't that be insane!"He goaded with a gentle hand through his son's hair and a pat on the cheek. Shoyo smiled at the encouragement and pushed away the hand with a chuckle.

"Now don't you have practice to get to?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm going."

Climbing out of the car with his father's shouts of 'kick some ass' and a round of laughter he grabbed his bag and gently closed the car door.

Turning around, the laughter died in his throat.

Standing on the other end of the open school gate was none other Kageyama Tobio.

And he was staring, very obviously, at the elegant monstrosity Shoyo had just climbed out of.

He hoped for one desperate moment that Kageyama wouldn't think the car - a Rolls Royce - a symbol of the exceedingly elite, was his.

Because he wasn't. He wasn't elite.

He hadn't been raised any different than anybody else. He wasn't different than anybody else.

But the car was his and he was a filthy rich bastard.

And damn, five thirty was too early to be having life altering revelations.

* * *

 _"Everyone wants to ride with you in the limo, but what you want is someone who will take the bus with you when the limo breaks down."_


	5. Cold Eyes

Kageyama Tobio had lived through some incredible surprises in his time.

His parents sudden divorce.

The discovery that not everyone was as invested in Volleyball as him.

The ridiculous complexity of Oikawa Tooru's hair care routine.

The betrayal of his middle school team.

The amazing save Hinata performed back in their last year of middle school.

His reappearance at Karasuno a year later. The fact that he was willing to trust Kageyama without any hesitation.

His rapid improvement in every aspect of the game. The discovery that he'd never actually played with a team before.

Now that he thought about it, a great deal of his surprises came with the fiery red head attached. This however was a surprise he never, in all of his wayward 'what if's', had entertained.

Because here he was, standing on the edge of the school gate, staring at that same boy who brought so many surprises.

The sun was just rising over the mountain and the light bounced off his unruly locks, lighting them in such a way he was tempted to think they were ablaze. Those eyes, always wide and flitting from place to place, never closed for longer than it took the time to blink, were wide and focused on him for the first time outside of a game.

And he looked terrified.

Kageyama supposed that he was the cause of that. He was staring back, unable to look away for a reason he couldn't quite grasp. He had been expecting Hinata to meet him in front of the club room, the way he always did. He had been debating what would be the best way to rekindle their argument from yesterday when he had stopped at the gate.

On the other end of the gate, parked on the side of the street, was a car that Kageyama was vaguely certain had no business being in this part of town, especially at this time of day.

He had seen a few cars like it when he had attended dinner parties with his mother in his younger years. He didn't know much about the kinds of people that drove them, but he had learned they were generally people that his mother had scolded him not to bother.

Important. Not to be approached. It wasn't to much of a leap of logic to assume that they were wealthy.

Karasuno, although not particularly underfunded, wasn't the kind of school that people with that kind of prestige sent their children to.

Curious but not particularly invested, he made to keep walking into the school yard, not willing to allow Hinata to tease him for being late. That was until he heard a familiar laugh as the passenger side door swung open.

Turning around on reflex, he was met with an achingly familiar head of orange hair. Hinata was still half inside the suspicious vehicle, grabbing his school bag. He was facing the driver, an older man that Kageyama couldn't see clearly through the tinted glass, and laughing as if he was chatting with an old friend.

Kageyama felt frozen to the spot, desperately trying to connect the scene with his mental map of Hinata.

It didn't fit.

Kageyama was certain that Hinata lived with only his younger sister and Grandmother- no, wait, his Father too apparently.

He was also certain that Hinata was not wealthy enough to own that car.

He had an argument with the boy just last week about skipping buying lunch to save up for a new bike. A new bike to replace the - god forbid anyone told Hinata - bucket of bolts that he had owned since his first year of middle school. The one that he had saved up money to buy, back then.

He had heard Hinata complain about the price of his cellphone's data plan and of hair accessories for his sister. If Hinata's family could afford a car like that, Kageyama was certain that a new bike- a data plan- damn hair clips wouldn't be something to fret over. With the, at times worrying, frugality that Hinata demonstrated the mere thought of him being anything but middle class at best- like the rest of the students in this school- was preposterous.

Yet here he was. Climbing, very happily, out of a car that cost more than a couple months rent for Kageyama's apartment.

Kageyama tried to convince himself that there was an explanation for this.

Maybe Hinata had a rich uncle? No, surely he would have bragged incessantly about an Uncle so successful in comparison to his own family. Maybe his bike had broken down on the way and a kind- and wealthy- passerby had offered him a ride? Unlikely. Why would a wealthy -and no doubt busy- individual stop to help some strange kid with their broken bike?

Unless, he wanted something in return.

His mother had always warned him about taking rides from strangers.

When he was younger she would regale him with terrifying tales of cases she had seen of child abduction and other terrible fates.

He had thought she had been trying to scare him into being overly cautious, but now every horrible tale came flooding back in grotesque detail.

What if that's what was happening? What if any minute the stranger would reach out and pull Hinata roughly back into the car before screeching away, never to be seen again? Would he be a witness to the kidnapping of his best friend? How was he going to stop this, he couldn't let that happen, not to Hinata-

He was jolted out of his panicked thoughts by the slam of a car door and the sight of Hinata's panicked expression.

He was surprised to see the fear directed toward him and not the suspicious man in the car.

They stared at each other blankly for a moment, Hinata seeming to try and calm whatever panic had washed over him and Kageyama tried to keep himself from feeling as foolish as he probably was. He looked over Hinata, making sure that he was actually mistaken and that the small boy hadn't already suffered some horrible assault.

His uniform was disheveled, but it always was, no matter how many times he was scolded for it. Nothing seemed particularly out of place and no marks were visible on the boys skin. His hair was the same terrible mess it always was - and yes, it was horribly untamed, even if the sunrise glinting off it gave the already impish boy an unearthly glow. Quickly moving on to his face after that embarrassing thought, Kageyama found that his skin was the same peachy color it always was.

His eyes lent to nothing but subdued panic as he stared, completely absorbed in Kageyama's presence on the other end of the gate. As nice as Kageyama found that to be, he was starting to get annoyed with the shocked silence from Hinata.

Looking fiercely into Hinata's eyes, he attempted his best glare, hoping to jar the boy into action. It didn't seem to work. Instead the boys ended up staring at each other for even longer. Hinata's eyes had sharpened from the murky amber that they usually were, into a sharp amber-gold.

Kageyama found that he couldn't bring himself to look away from those eyes, too absorbed in the almost feral light dancing around their iris'.

"Are you two gonna need a minute?"

Hinata and Kageyama both startled at the gravelly voice, interrupting their staring contest. Swiveling quickly to look at the source, Kageyama found the driver side door of the car open, a man leaning against it placidly.

The man was only slightly shorter than Asahi and had facial hair to match. His hair, brown and unruly, was obviously mussed from sleep and his clothes were rumpled. Kageyama blinked at the letters on his dark grey t-shirt - JSDF - and then again at the offensively green shoes on his feet.

Kageyama startled again when he realized that the man was sizing him up in much the same way.

Mirth danced in his familiar amber eyes and Kageyama felt the color drain from his face when he realized that this man was undoubtedly related to Hinata.

No two people could have that same haunting eye color and share the same mischievous look without being family. The man smirked amusedly at Kageyama's look of horror as he languidly reached into his sweat pants pocket, lighting a cigarette he found there.

"'Cause if you need me to cover your asses with your Captain while you two have your little moment, I'm game."

Kageyama felt heat rush to his face as he tightened his grip on his bag. Here he was assuming the worst of a stranger - obviously a stranger close to Hinata - and making a fool of himself by just standing there for who knows how long.

Worse is that the man seemed to be under the impression that they were going to continue doing so for quite awhile. Although, he didn't quite know what the man mean by their 'little moment' he had sense enough to be embarrassed.

"N-No! That- uh - we were just- I- shit! Nope, we're good! Uh-See ya later, thanks Dad!"

Suddenly Hinata was at his side, grabbing his sleeve and dragging him into the school yard with his head ducked low.

Kageyama could see that the tips of his ears and his neck were red, and even if he didn't really understand why, he blushed harder at the sight. Swiveling his head around to the man- Hinata's Father- when he heard muffled snickering, he saw him watching them with mischief, his sharp golden eyes carrying the same intensity that Hinata's had.

Despite his relaxed posture - leaning against his car, one hand resting over the top of the door, the other precariously holding his cigarette - he had a heavy air around him. Kageyama's eyes widened when he realized that he wasn't watching _them_ , he was watching _him_.

Kageyama found himself swallowing thickly before snapping his gaze away with haste. Although their eyes were undoubtedly the same, Kageyama couldn't seem to find any warmth in the older man's gaze.

Hinata's eyes, although golden, sharp, and feral, had a certain quality in them that had made it impossible for him to look away. Hinata's father on the other hand held something so terrifyingly cold in his gaze that Kageyama felt as though he couldn't dare to meet it.

Kageyama swallowed thickly when he realized that although it sent dread coursing through him, that look wasn't altogether unfamiliar.

Hinata's eyes were exactly the same when he looked at an enemy team.

* * *

Making their way to the club room had been an adventure. Hinata had set such a brisk pace that Kageyama had had trouble not tripping, despite his longer legs.

Once they arrived at the entrance to the club room, Hinata had let go of his sleeve and tested the handle only to find that it was still locked. Apparently they weren't quite as late as Hinata had thought.

Hinata shuffled around grumpily for a few minutes before glancing shyly up at Kageyama out of the corner of his eye. Kageyama blinked back at him, confused at his companions uncharacteristically meek actions. Hinata seemed to realize this as he sighed defeatedly, before scuttling over to the railing and leaning against it tiredly.

"Sorry. For, uh, my Dad. He likes to joke around, ya know?" Hinata said awkwardly, with a nervous laugh.

Kageyama nodded slowly, not really understanding why Hinata seemed so bothered by the situation. It was undoubtedly awkward but Hinata was the kind of person that attracted embarrassing situations every day. It wasn't like him to get so worked up about it.

"And I'm sorry about the s-staring..."

Hinata was blushing again and looking somewhere up and to the left. Kageyama felt his own face flush slightly and he was starting to become vaguely concerned that he was catching a cold.

"I j-just, ya know... um, I was surprised! Yeah, I was surprised because, I mean, I really wasn't expecting you to be there."

Hinata was fidgeting where he sat.

"And then you saw me and that stupid car and the first thing I thought when I saw it was 'holy shit, who would be enough of an ass to drive that around town' and then I realized I am. I am that ass."

He looked at his feet now, rubbing his hands together worriedly.

"A-and I just want you to know, that I didn't even know we _had_ that car! I-I don't usually go around driving things like that! A-and when my Dad was like 'hey, I'll give you a ride!' I thought we'd be going in my grandma's V.W. like _normal people._ "

His eyes were wide now, like he was panicking again and the way he hissed out the last two words, with such urgency and desperation, made Kageyama think that he was trying to convince himself more than anything.

Concerned, he stepped toward the other boy awkwardly. His hands moved to pat him hesitantly on the shoulder before Kageyama could think better of it.

Hinata looked up at him sharply then. His eyes were wide and he gazed at him questioningly. Caught in the awkward position of trying to be comforting without exactly knowing _how_ , Kageyama stiffened before shuffling to stand directly in front of Hinata.

"It- uh- it's fine. So, you're a little richer than I thought," A lot richer ", that doesn't really change anything. I mean you're still an idiot with a life motto like 'ball is life'. What does a few extra zeros on your yearly income matter?"

Nice. He really nailed that one. Why is it that he can _never_ say anything nice to Hinata? It's like his mouth _wants_ him to be a miserable, lonely bastard.

Hinata blinked up at him before bursting into a fit of giggles. Kageyama would forever be grateful that Hinata deflected all of the _horribly_ timed and tactless parts of his sentences.

He would also be forever grateful for Hinata's laugh, not that he'd ever tell him that. He smiled hesitantly at the shorter male as he waited for his laughter to stop.

Hinata finally calmed as he dried his eyes exaggeratedly.

"Well at least I _have_ a life motto," he quipped with a mischievous smirk. Kageyama felt his brow twitch before he leaned forward to pinch Hinata's cheek roughly. They struggled like that for a few minutes, trading snide remarks and light blows before breaking off into laughter.

Hinata sighed lightly before leaning forward into Kageyama's chest, startling the other boy out of his chuckles. Kageyama just stared down at him with wide eyes, hands in the air uselessly. Hinata laughed lightly before nuzzling the other boy with content. Kageyama was certain his face was bright red, by now.

"Thanks, Kageyama. You're the best."

Hinata's voice was laced with a relief and a meaning that Kageyama couldn't quite grasp, but that made him smile proudly anyway. Hesitantly, he let his arms rest around the other boys back, in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.

"Well obviously," he snorted, leaning his chin on Hinata's head. Hinata batted lightly at his side with a little huff, but Kageyama was sure he was still smiling. They stayed that way for a while, talking quietly as they waited for Daichi to show up and unlock the club room.

Eventually they heard steps coming up the stairs and soft voices floating faintly from the lower levels. Pulling away slightly, Kageyama turned to face the stairs expectantly, one arm still wrapped lazily around Hinata who was still half leaning into his side.

Eventually Daichi and Suga came to the top of the stairs, talking quietly. Daichi looked as tired as he usually did, that is to say, he needed at least another cup of coffee before actually being pronounced alive. Suga was the first to notice them.

He turned to greet them happily, waving excitedly as Daichi glared at his chipper mood in disdain. Something like surprise flashed across Suga's face when he properly looked at them before it morphed into smugness and he elbowed Daichi in the side none to gently. With a yelp and a withering glare, Daichi followed Suga's very blatant head nod to look at the two first years.

He gazed at them, none to impressed for a moment before understanding seemed to dawn on him and his face lit up happily with pride. His pleased expression lasted all of five seconds as Suga made a questioning hum and held out a hand expectantly.

Face crumbling into resentment, he grumbled angrily as he fished out his wallet slamming a thousand yen bill into Suga's waiting hand before brushing roughly past him to unlock the door, still muttering.

Suga smiled happily as he pocketed the money and flitted over to the younger boys, patting them affectionately on the head, before walking into the now open club room. Kageyama and Hinata looked at each other questioningly before shrugging and making their way into the club room in order to get changed.

Suga flounced over to Daichi, seeming to comfort him teasingly.

Sometimes Suga and Daichi had inside jokes that nobody else really understood.

It was a fact of life that they'd learned to accept. They seemed to act out entire dramas with a handful of looks and not understand a single thing the other said at the same time. They were in sync without being the same. They were 'the third year duo' or 'the team leaders', but to those who knew them it was always Suga & Daichi or Daichi & Suga.

They were a team, two people who were so undeniably close they didn't particularly mind being apart.

Hinata thought they were what a married couple must look like.

He thought that if they were, they were the most married people he knew. All without being married at all.

* * *

 _"Connections are made with the heart, not the tongue."_


	6. Obvious Things

Afternoon practice had started normally enough. A few minutes of running laps, followed by stretching in pairs. Somehow that's where things went wrong.

It really shouldn't have been that much of a surprise to anyone. Karasuno was, unarguably, a gathering of some of the strangest personalities to be found in high school boys. The amount of hormones, ambition, and dynamic personalities lead to questionable situations more often than anyone would care to admit.

Especially Daichi. The poor man was put in the position of being in charge of the team and with a coach and advisor who were rather incapable - or unwilling - to discipline the team outside of practice.

He sometimes had the strangest feeling that he had somehow adopted ten horribly obnoxious children. And Suga rarely helped. Unless the situation was serious Suga was content to be the gentle and loving hand pushing the team along. All while smirking mischievously at Daichi's exasperation.

Bless the setter's heart, sometimes he wanted to punch him - right in the stupid fucking mole next to his eye. But, he reasoned, that might actually hurt the man and Daichi never would be able to do it. Still he entertained the thought.

Suga, more often than not could be found watching the teams antics with sarcastic - if not awed - amusement. Like now.

Nishinoya had been helping Asahi stretch, as he was prone to do, when he had started ridiculing the larger man's flexibility. After a few bouts of,

"Asahi, what are you doing?"

"Come on! I know you can do better!"

"Let's goooooooooo! Looooooooowwwwweeeerrrr~"

"I know your toes are _really_ far away but you've got long arms so just _do it_! _Make_! _Your dreams_! _Come true_!",

and a lot of snickering and whispers of 'Shia LeBeouf' followed by flat out laughter, Asahi was a stuttering mess on the verge of tears.

Nishinoya, unaware of the larger man's distress, had started reciting a frighteningly accurate rendition of 'Actual Cannibal Shia LeBeouf' with Tanaka as accompaniment while he continued to push encouragingly on the Ace's back. When Hinata started to whisper along to the performance between his snickers, with Kageyama watching confused behind him, Daichi had enough. Just as he was about to scold Nishinoya to leave the other man alone, Suga decided to interject.

"Instead of scolding him, maybe you should show him how it's done, Noya."

Ever the pleasant and encouraging one, Suga's smile lent nothing but sincerity despite the glimmer of mirth in his eye only Daichi could seem to see. Nishinoya perked up at the idea, before dashing to stand in front of Asahi and proceeding to show him how to stretch 'properly'. Asahi watched him attentively, if not nervously. The situation seemed to be resolved. And then Tanaka opened his mouth.

"What the hell, Noya!? Shoyo can do better than _that!_ "

He chortled, pointing over to the younger boy who was, to Daichi's amazement and horror, doing something that resembled a split while reaching to touch his toes on either side alternatively. Kageyama was standing to his side, a dazed look of wonder on his slightly flushed face as Hinata chattered at him brightly. Realizing the abrupt silence, Hinata turned to look questioningly at his teammates, jostling Kageyama out of whatever revere he had been in. Daichi really didn't want to think about what he could have been daydreaming about.

"Waaaaaa~ What the hell! How did you do that, Hinata! You've gotta teach me! Help an upperclassman out!"

Nishinoya had launched himself out of his toe touches to almost tackle the poor red head. Tanaka was soon to follow, equally excited and eager to learn this new trick. For his part, Hinata looked like he hadn't the faintest earthly clue what they were talking about.

"H-how did I do what?"

He was no longer doing that ridiculous split, thank god, but had now curled in on himself slightly, glancing between his Senpai nervously and looking at Kageyama in mild panic. Kageyama, however, seemed to be very focused on the edge of his bangs. Perhaps he was thinking that he needed a trim.

"The split, Shoyo! The _split_."

Nishinoya and Tanka were now hovering over the boy oppressively. Realization seemed to come slowly for Hinata, but even when he realized what exactly his Senpai were asking he seemed to be vaguely confused.

"I, uh, I'm... very limber? And uh, I stretch? A lot?"

Nishinoya and Tanaka listened intently, enraptured in the secrets of this amazing technique. Nervously, and with an air of confusion, Hinata continued to divulge the secret of his flexibility.

"Uh, okay, um, I stretch every morning after I wake up? And obviously for practice. And then before dinner and again after I take a shower? Oh, and I- uh- I help Natsu practice for gymnastics when I can."

The two ruffians were now crouched in front of the smaller boy, nodding along as if taking mental notes on the routine. Nishinoya smiled brightly at the mention of Hinata's sister. Daichi noticed that Nishinoya always seemed to be overly eager to hear about the relationships his friends held with their family. He felt a little less like scolding him after the thought.

"Oh, so you're a gymnast now? Somehow I find that hard to believe," Tsukishima spoke up suddenly from where Yamaguchi was lazily encouraging him to put some effort into stretching.

Hinata blinked at him, confused but miffed out of principal. Tsukishima rolled his eyes when he realized that the snide comment went over Hinata's head. He smirked regardless, and Daichi thought that maybe he appreciated Hinata's slowness if only for the sake of teasing him.

"I mean, you're hardly _graceful_. I thought that was a requirement. Your sister must be pretty awful, with you for help. How embarrassing."

Yamaguchi valiantly tried to hide his snickers by pushing on Tsukishima's back, forcing him to go back to reaching for his ever elusive toes. Tsukishima looked rather pleased with himself and Daichi almost rolled his eyes before wondering if Tsukishima was more pleased with his own wit or Yamaguchi's reaction to it.

Hinata however was none too impressed. In fact he seemed to take this a challenge. His eyes flashed angrily and his fists clenched slightly in his lap. Standing up abruptly he huffed out an 'I'll show you' before stalking determinedly over to the far wall of the gym. He stood there for a moment, breathing steadily while rolling his wrists and neck, before he got into an alarmingly disciplined stance.

Daichi felt his face grow paler as flashes of broken bones, torn ligaments, and other horrible gymnastic related injuries swam through his mind. He moved to yell at Hinata that he had nothing to prove, to just ignore Tsukishima, but it was too late.

The boy had already started off in a sprint.

His eyes, sharp and gold, seemed to calculate every moment his body needed to make precisely before he made them.

With an air of elegance Daichi would have thought impossible of the red head, his feet were off the ground and his body slicing through the air fluidly. Without any wasted movement, and seeming as though more natural than breathing, he was in the air.

He had thought the boy to be a bird leaping into flight the first time he'd seen him jump, and now he felt as though that same bird had used that explosive energy to soar high through the air.

He performed several cartwheels- one of which had him suspended midair for a frightening moment- flips, and handsprings until he was directly in front of Tsukishima.

The blond had stood up at Hinata's shift in demeanor, whether to better see his performance or to loom over him, no one knew. Hinata came to a full stop mere inches from his taller counterpart, uncomfortably close and smirking teasingly. Tukishima had skittered backward as the smaller boy had approached, a look of panic on his normally smirking face. The entire gym had held its breath, waiting for impact before the red head had stopped on a dime.

Hinata stared up at him, eyes a brilliant gold- sharp and clear in a way Tsukishima had never seen in his life.

His body was still taught and his eyes were still sharp. The gym was quiet and the air around the red head seemed too heavy to break, too important. Everything seemed to be still, as all eyes watched the small boy with awe and a vague sense of something else. Something they'd felt before but never bothered to name.

Slowly a smile spread across Hinata's face, and Daichi felt a shiver down his back.

That wasn't the same smile Hinata usually wore; it wasn't the mischievous one he pointed at Kageyama, and it wasn't the excited one he wore before practice. It was not the bright one he wore when they won a game, or met old friends, or when he was goofing off with Tanaka and Noya or consoling a nervous Asahi. It wasn't the one he wore when he thought no one was looking and he took his time to gaze contently at any and all of them - more often than not Kageyama. It was not the smile that Suga had, once when it was very late or very early and they were watching the sky quietly, called 'spring sunshine' with a soft fondness.

It was cold and challenging, full of confidence and overpowering superiority, and Daichi imagined for a minute that the teeth it revealed had sharpened and glinted in the light. Cold gold glinted with amusement, and Daichi was alarmed to find pleasure too, as Hinata opened his mouth - full of normal human teeth, he was sure - to speak with a voice lacking the tumbling cadence and teenage inconsistency it usually carried.

"Well, if you can do better," he skipped a step backward, hands loosely behind his back and smiling brightly, "then I guess you'd be right!"

Tsukishima stared down at him in shock, still reeling from almost being bulldozed by a rapidly flipping ball of orange. Yamaguchi had skittered back just before Hinata had stopped, hand reaching out to grab his friend's shirt in an aborted attempt to save him. Daichi doubted it would have been successful. The rate Hinata was moving at, Daichi was prepared to call an ambulance for a split second.

Tsukishima seemed to regain himself and took another step back, still to close to the threatening half pint in front of him. He raised himself to his full height in a show of resistance, before clicking his tongue in annoyance and stalking off to the other side of the gym.

The rest of the gym stared in anxious confusion at the two of them, a fight like this breaking out so suddenly was unheard of. For it to dissolve equally as quickly, with hardly a rebuttal, even more unheard of.

Tsukishima had admitted defeat and everyone knew it.

The air hung heavy, jarringly different than the easy laughter of moments ago.

Hinata smiled brightly at the blond's back, an undercurrent of irritation around him despite his relaxed posture.

"See. I can be plenty graceful, _Tsukishima_."

The venom in the name sounded like an execution.

* * *

Coach Ukai had arrived moments later, conversing quietly with Takeda, before they both stopped awkwardly just inside the door at the heavy atmosphere that greeted them.

Upon noticing their arrival, Hinata had slipped back into his normal grin, fierce gaze melting back into fiery amber. The heavy air had shattered, like magic suddenly dispelled. And the team had gone back to their stretches, quiet and dazed.

The entire event left an eerie fog in it's wake, as though it had never really happened.

However the dirty glances that Hinata kept throwing at Tsukishima, and the way Nishinoya actively ignored the tall first year's presence showed otherwise. Honestly, the two may have been overreacting to the situation, but it seemed that Hinata was especially sensitive to comments about his sister. Nishinoya seemed to understand this, and decided to side with him due to some personal code of honor no one really understood.

For his part, Tsukishima sulked his way around the gym, Yamaguchi worriedly trailing after him and throwing concerned glances between him and Hinata. In an attempt to keep his pride in tact, Tsukishima seemed to put some genuine effort into practice; something he rarely ever did. Noticeably anyway.

Besides the cold attitude toward Tsukishima, Hinata seemed to have bounced back alarmingly well from whatever dark mood had taken him not long before. If anything he seemed to make up for it with his enthusiasm. Somehow he had agreed to teach Nishinoya and Tanaka how to do some basic gymnastic maneuvers.

"Why so interested, though?"He asked taking a sip out of his water bottle, before handing one to Kageyama absentmindedly as he approached.

"Dunno, looks hella cool. Might impress the ladies," Tanaka drawled suggestively, with a waggle of his eyebrows. Nishinoya snickered along as Hinata flushed slightly and nodded.

"Uh, what about you, Noya?" The shorter boy hummed thoughtfully as he used his shirt to wipe some sweat from his face.

Shoyo watched carefully, sure that his talented senpai had some reason for being so eager to become more flexible and agile. Perhaps it would help improve him as a Libero? Shoyo would do everything he could to help, were it the case.

Nishinoya seemed to think it over as his eyes flickered over to Asahi who was talking to Suga - whether he was being encouraged or scolded no one could tell, what with his defeated posture - and a wicked grin crawled across his face. Shoyo suddenly regretted asking.

"A little extra flexibility can be an advantage on many battlefronts."

His voice suggested a hidden meaning to his words as he winked flirtatiously. Tanaka almost choked on the water he had just downed and Shoyo could feel his face blaze in embarrassment. Kageyama stood to his side and tilted his head in confusion.

Tanaka struggled to regain his breath, and leaned against the wall dramatically as Shoyo hid his face in his hands. Nishinoya laughed loudly at their reactions, delighted at the dramatics.

"Bro. Could you be any more obvious?" Tanaka grunted disdainfully when he had recovered.

Nishinoya just smirked back at him before setting his bottle down and turning on his heel.

"Yep."

And he excitedly dashed over to the Ace, pestering him to help practice a new receive he'd developed 'just for him'.

Tanaka slapped a calloused palm to his face and groaned loudly.

"Wasn't a challenge, dude."

Shoyo did not need to come to this particular revelation today.

Then again, Nishinoya was never anything but upfront and spontaneous. And now that he thought about it, the concept of the revelation had been rolling around in his mind since he saw the hurt on Nishinoya's face when he was told Asahi wouldn't be rejoining the team this year.

Funny how something only seems obvious when it's pointed out.

"What's obvious?"

Asked Kageyama, utterly confused and mildly alarmed.

Then again, maybe not.

* * *

 _"The world is full of obvious things which nobody by any chance ever observes."_


	7. Crow Prince

Walking through the front door Shoyo let out a sigh as the warm air hit him. Autumn had gripped the town tightly and the top of the mountain had decided that winter was coming early. Kicking off his shoes and dropping his bag, he tumbled onto the step separating the foyer from the interior of the house and stared at his ceiling listlessly.

Absentmindedly, he remembered to call out a greeting, but he was vaguely sure that he sounded like a dying whale instead. He closed his eyes and would have fallen asleep if not for the sound of a high pitched battle cry. The air was stolen from his lungs as a tiny body slammed down on his chest, ceaseless laughter coming from the cretin crushing his ribs. With a groan he pushed Natsu off of him, only to wrap her tightly in a hug once they were both securely on the floor.

She continued to giggle as she squirmed her way closer to him, nuzzling into his chest affectionately. Just when he though she had settled, she started to blow raspberries against his collarbone. Chuckling, he started to tickle her fiercely in retaliation. After settling from their struggling she finally looked up to beam at him brightly.

"Welcome home, big brother!"

"Hi, Natsu."

He chuckled as he tried to smooth out her mussed hair to no avail. It was only then that he noticed that she was covered in what looked like tin foil. Blinking blankly at her, he tried to process how on earth she had even gotten to the drawer in which they stored it.

"Why are you dressed in foil?"

"Ah! I forgot!" She gasped before struggling to stand up suddenly, and pulling a previously unnoticed foil sword with her. Now that he could see her fully, he realized that the foil was strategically placed in what he assumed was supposed to be armor. That's not to say it came anywhere close to looking like the real deal.

"This is my armor! I am the mighty Shield Maiden, here to save the day!" She brandished her sword high in the air, her small fist resting on her hip, and her feet apart rebelliously. Her face forced it's way to a fierce scowl; an attempt at looking like a stoic warrior, he supposed. He let out a sound of realization as he sat up and took off his jacket, moving his things to the side of the hall with care.

"So, what're you saving the day from, then?" He pondered with deliberate seriousness.

"The Warlock, of course," she informed him, as though it were common knowledge. He nodded sagely as he stood.

"Of course, how could I not have realized?"

"Yes! And YOU are the Prince!" She reminded him, pointing her sword at his person in an official manner. He blinked at her for a few moments before furrowing his brow, crossing his arms, and pouting.

"If I'm the Prince, where's my crown?"

She sighed, as though disappointed in his poor memory.

"Well, it was stolen, of course." She waved her sword around disinterestedly; her annoyance with having to explain evident.

"Of course." He did his very best to keep the dead-pan sarcasm from his voice, but didn't quite manage to keep it off his face.

"Yes," she either didn't notice or elected to ignore his disinterest, "the Warlock stole it and cursed you so you'd look like a Crow. And I have to help you get your crown back so you can turn back to you!"

He nodded along, noting the details of her story so that he wouldn't forget his role.

"Alright, so we have to fight this Warlock?" He relinquished, resigned to his role. After all being a cursed prince wasn't such a bad part to play.

"Duh." She seemed to rapidly be growing bored with his questions and not for the first time he wondered if her lack of patience was another trait she'd learned from him.

"How will I fight if I'm a crow?" He crossed his arms, satisfied with the question that might actually engage her.

It seemed to do it's job, as her little brow furrowed and she bit her lip in confusion. Suddenly her eyes lit up and she pointed her sword toward him again, forcing him to back up lest he lose an eye.

"The Queen!" She crowed, triumphant. "She taught you how to use magic so you can fly faster than all the other Crows! And you can talk!" Her hands came to rest at her sides as she puffed up her little chest proudly. He couldn't help but think that she looked like a little crow herself; bursting with mischief and pride, preening her little feathers.

"Oh, so what, I just fly around really fast and confuse him?" He smiled gently at her, letting her work through her battle plans on her own as he started down the hall.

"No!" She chirped after a moment, scampering along behind him. "You have claws! Now, defend your throne! And your tardy Mother's honor!"

He turned his head back to stared at her confusedly for a moment before realization struck him.

"You mean my late Mother." He corrected with a chuckle.

She shot him a confused look before the look shifted into one of indignation.

"Yeah, well I learned today that 'tardy' is the same as 'late', so I'm right!" She huffed with a pout, poking him in the back of the knee with her sword.

"What? No way, not like that it isn't. You're tardy when you're late. Not when you're dead!" He laughed harder at her insistence. This only seemed to anger her further as she started to poke harder.

"What's the difference!" She cried angrily, her little face growing red in anger - or embarrassment - he couldn't tell which. "You're ghost is just late but backwards!" She insisted, stopping in the hallway now in order to glare at him properly.

"That doesn't even make any sense! How can you be late but backwards!" Logically he knew arguing with a little girl would gain him nothing but she always had a way of pushing him into arguing even when he knew full well neither of them had any clue what the other was saying anymore.

"Well we can't," she insisted desperately, "we aren't ghosts!"

"What does that even mean!?" He cried in anguish, hands reaching to clutch at his hair. He could see her brow twitch as she took a deep breath- no doubt to start yelling more nonsense.

They were interrupted from their arguing by dark laughter from the end of the hallway.

"See how easily you're teamwork abandons you in the face of adversity!"

Malicious joy tinted the haughty exclamation. Confused and slightly alarmed, they turned sharply to look at the other party, Shoyo moving protectively in front of Natsu on instinct. At the end of the hallway he could barely make out the shape of a man moving toward them. He didn't know how a stranger could get into the house; they'd always kept the door locked when no adults were home. Unless of course the suspect was accustomed to breaking and entering. He gripped Natsu's wrist, ready to make a break for it.

When their assailant came into the light Shoyo burst out laughing so hard he might have started crying.

There stood his father, brown hair perfectly combed to the side, amber eyes tired and warm, gazing at them mischievously. Around his shoulders was a blanket Shoyo recognized as the one they kept on the sofa for his grandmother, held there by a safety pin. He wore a foil cone over his head in what Shoyo supposed was a wizard's hat and brandished a wooden spoon for a wand.

It seemed that they'd found the infamous Warlock.

"AH! Wicked Warlock!" Screeched Natsu from beside Shoyo, ecstatic in the face of her enemy. Shoube smiled brightly at her before he sent his son a conspiratorial wink.

"Wretched Shield Maiden!" He swept out his blanket covered arms in a grand gesture that would have been intimidating if the blanket weren't patterned in light blue pansies. "Swearing thy sword to this foolish Prince twas not but folly! This battle shall be thy last! Thou and thy accursed Prince shall met thy demise on this field of battle!" He concluded his horribly campy speech, with a laudable attempt at malicious laughter, sweeping the blanket up to hide his face.

Natsu looked confused for a moment before tugging on Shoyo's sleeve and whispering.

"What's folly? And demise?"

Shoyo crouched down to her, keeping his gaze squarely on their enemy.

"Folly is a mistake. And demise means he wants to kill us," he whispered back to her ominously. Her little eyes widened as a gasp left her lips, her eyes sparking fire.

"Have at thee, villain! Onward, my Prince!" She shouted before charging at the malicious Warlock, intent on saving her Liege Lord.

...Several hours and a food fight later, Natsu was asleep in her bed and the Hinata men were camped out in the blanket fort, Natsu had declared the castle, in the living room. They had turned on the TV and were sharing a bag of questionable potato chips they had found in the back of the pantry.

Apparently Shoyo's Grandmother had gone to visit an ill neighbor who lived alone and wouldn't be back till morning. Ah, the joys of country living.

"How was school?" Questioned Shoube during a commercial break, stealing a rather large chip from his son. Shoyo shot him a pout, for which he only got a smirk in return, before reaching for another. He proceeded to throw it at his father's foil hat, knocking it off with minimal effort. Shoube continued munching on the food as if he hadn't noticed. Shoyo pouted at the lack of reaction.

"Good. Same as usual, tried not to fall asleep. But I did manage to make a great eraser bridge during History," he chirped and Shoube nodded along with a hum.

They held a mutual aversion to academics, but Shoube had always insisted that Shoyo tried his best, even if his best wasn't quite the same as other kids. It was something that Shoyo had detested in his younger years but had come to appreciate recently. It meant that any success or failure he met, rested on his shoulder's and his alone. It had instilled in him the idea that if his natural skill wasn't enough, he had no one to blame it on then himself. This also pushed him to try his damnedest to struggle past where his natural abilities left him. A skill he'd put to good use in Volleyball.

"Practice?" Hummed Shoube, intent on the potato chip that had disappeared into the folds of his blanket cape.

"Well, I got into a fight with Stingyshima, not that that's new." Muttered Shoyo resentfully after a moment of thought.

Shoube snorted a laugh; he had heard plenty about the blonde menace from his son since the boy had joined the volleyball club. He was aware that the kid could be difficult and that him and Shoyo often clashed, but he'd always gotten the feeling that Shoyo liked, or the very least appreciated, the other boy's presence. Whatever the case, he was sure he didn't hate him. Now however, Shoyo seemed to seethe quietly in his seat. Shoube new that the only time Shoyo was this quiet about his feelings was when he was trying not to let them get the best of him.

"What about? Did he insult your boyfriend or something?" He prodded, genuine curiosity and concern in his voice. He knew how much Shoyo's team meant to him and he'd hate for him to lose one of the friends he'd made there. As air-headed as he tended to be, the boy cared excessively for the people he considered friends. However it seemed that he hadn't been quite tactful enough with his questioning.

"What!?" Shoyo started coughing violently on a chip he had had just tossed into his mouth. "Dad!? What the hell!? I-I'm not-we're not-I don't-What!?" He made a desperate grab for the glass of water on the coffee table, a flush reaching to ears that was decidedly not from lack of air. "M-me and Kageyama aren't- we're not like that!" He insisted, avoiding eye contact once he had regained his breath.

Shoube lifted a brow at the jerky movements his son made and the, frankly concerning, flush of his face.

"I didn't say a name, son." He assured gently. That seemed to stop Shoyo in his tracks. He stared at his father, frozen in place, a deer in the headlights. Shoube was tempted to laugh in face.

He realized that wouldn't be very supportive, so he managed to rein it in, but Shoyo's reaction had been far too dramatic. He hadn't realized how uncomfortable the topic would make him. But he supposed, romantic interaction wasn't something that would come easily to a boy as impulsive as Shoyo.

He chuckled faintly and reached out to ruffle his son's hair, enough to snap him out of his frozen state. His flush spread from his cheeks all the way down his neck and to his ears, before he curled in on himself and groaned into his knees.

"Oh my god," he whispered defeatedly to his pants.

"Yeah, pretty much," Shoube nodded, with a sympathetic pat to the back.

"I like Bakayama." Shoyo sounded as if he was explaining it to himself and Shoube realized this may have been the first time he'd actually put the feeling into words.

"Seems like it." He chuckled when Shoyo groaned loudly into his knees again.

"And it was so obvious, you caught it before me." He was whining now. In that way he did when he was embarrassed or felt like he'd lost at something. Shoube supposed both were accurate right now.

"Yeah. You've got it bad, kid." Shoube reached into the bag and grabbed a handful of chips before settling back into the cushions. He glanced over at Shoyo and ruffled his hair once more before tuning back into the TV show. Several minutes later and Shoyo had uncurled from his pity ball and listlessly stared at the TV while eating chips Shoube handed to him. Finally he sighed resignedly.

"I'm so screwed." He muttered resentfully at the TV, a scowl pulling his face.

Shoube did laugh in his face this time.

"That's the spirit!"

... Morning had come and it seemed that they would be repeating the same routine as yesterday. They had agreed to drive the V.W. Shoyo's Grandmother had parked in the garage well past midnight.

The decision had been entirely more difficult than it had to be, but they'd managed after some teasing - "Don't you want to impress Kageyama with your sweet ride? Chicks dig that stuff. And teenage guys generally like cars and shit, right?" - and far too much stuttering on Shoyo's part.

They had elected to eat breakfast before leaving, with the extra time an actual engine afforded them. Not for the first time Shoyo plotted his scheme to get himself a motor bike before he graduated. A junker of course, probably paid for by a string of part time jobs. It'll still be cool enough to rub in Kageyama's face. He wondered if Kageyama would let him drive him home sometime.

"So 'bout that conversation we had last night. What'd you fight with 'Shima 'bout?" Shoube asked absently around an apple. Shoyo blinked at him, startled out of his -now that he caught himself, very embarrassing- thoughts, before huffing and glaring at the coffee pot.

"We were stretching and I _may_ have been showing off _a little_ -"

"For Kageyama, I'm sure."

"No, for the glory of the family name, Dad," he sniped with a roll of his eyes, as his father snickered childishly at the sarcasm. Sometimes it was hard to believe he was an adult, but it's not as if Shoyo could judge.

" _Anyway,_ " he drawled pointedly, "two of my really cool Senpai started asking me all these questions about how I got that flexible and stuff." He punctuated this with a roll of his wrist which seemed to mean 'and stuff' as he shoved an assortment of snacks into his bag. "So I ended up telling them about my stretching routine-"

" _Just_ the stretching, right?" Interrupted Shoube seriously, his gaze sharp over his half eaten apple.

Shoyo frowned grumpily before huffing and nodding sharply. "Yes, Dad, just the stretching. Anyway, I was telling them about it and that I started telling them about how I help Natsu practice sometimes."

" _Tsk, tsk,_ I'm sure I didn't raise such a braggart, Shoyo." Shoube shook his head in mock disappointment, looking at his apple as if it could sympathize.

"Oh, like you don't brag about Natsu literally all the time, Dad." Shoyo knew for a fact he had pictures of both of them- one of the two of them posed together at a party, fancy clothes and all, and two others of them separately in uniform during their respective competitions -in his wallet, which he pulled out whenever the mood struck him. Which seemed to be always. He'd laughed the first time that he realized that all of his Dad's coworkers had a conditioned cringe response whenever he pulled out his wallet.

"Oh, Shoyo, I brag about both of you in equally obnoxious amounts. Besides, I'm already rotten to the core." He shot a devilish look at him and Shoyo was reminded of how his cousin's maids would twitter about them giddily when he sent them that smirk. He felt himself cringe at the thought. Flirting Dad's were the worst brand of Dad's.

" _ANYWAY._ I was telling them about Natsu, and then Shittyshima says something like... uh.. wait... yeah, he says 'with you for help, she must really suck. How embarrassing!'" He stopped there, pouting moodily at the floor before he took a deep breath and reached for a banana to distract himself.

"Like, what the hell! Who just goes around insulting someone's sister! A little girl, that he'd never even met! Who _happens to be really damn talented and passionate about her sport_!" Shoyo had gotten progressively angrier during his retelling, and had managed to mangle the banana in his hand by the time he was done. He barely seemed to notice, too concerned with glaring at the floor with a look Shoube was sure would have lesser men fleeing for their lives.

Shoube himself wasn't entirely pleased with the actions of this Tsukishima boy, but he knew he probably hadn't had the faintest clue what he was doing, beyond teasing Shoyo a little. He couldn't have possibly known that Natsu was just as in love with gymnastics as Shoyo was with volleyball. Couldn't have possibly known the lengths she went to in order to excel, even at her young age. Couldn't have possibly known about the callouses, the sprained joints, the overworked tendons, the meets and the awards and the hours upon _hours_ she poured her heart into for the sport.

He couldn't have known how proud Shoyo was of her.

Or how much he worried about her drive for excellence.

But Shoube was sure he knew now that he'd made a mistake. A dire one.  
Shoyo always reacted strongly when it came to family. Not that Shoube could blame him for it. That's the way he'd raised him, after all. Still, he worried that his son's temper would get the best of him some day. He only hoped it didn't get the best of his team.

He let out a heavy sigh before shaking his head and standing.

"I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it. Just get him to realize why you're upset- without accidentally threatening him -and he'll probably apologize," Shoube stopped here, gazing at the wall thoughtfully, "Maybe. If we're lucky. Otherwise, beat the shit out of him." He advised with a decisive nod of his head.

Violence wasn't always the answer, but when encountering a Grade A asshole certain measures were necessary.

Shoyo giggled at the immature advice before taking a calming breath and leaning against the counter again.

"Anything else, happen?" Shoube asked curiously. Shoyo seemed to think about it before he shrugged noncommittally.

"My Senpai pretty much slapped me in the face with his not-so-hidden thing for our Ace," He raised one finger as if keeping count, "And I'm pretty sure our Captain and Vice-Captain are soulmates." Another finger. "So yeah, I'm not the only really gay guy on this team? Not to mention I'm pretty sure Yamaguchi and Shittyshima have been dating since _forever_." A third finger and a face of wonder. Shoube could practically hear the silent 'God knows _why_ '.

Shoyo laughed slightly hysterically at the absurdity of the entire situation before sighing deeply and banging his head against the counter with a groan. Shoube hummed and nodded in understanding. That was hardly the strangest string of coincidences he'd seen in his life. Improbable, statistically impossible, and down right weird, yes, but not the strangest. He stood up and patted Shoyo on the shoulder comfortingly.

"We should get going. And maybe say a eulogy for that banana."

Shoyo cracked a smile at that before throwing the limp thing in the trash and clapping his hands together in mock prayer.

"Rest In Piece, Mr. Banana. I'm sure you would have tasted great, but at least now I can say Tsukishima owes me breakfast." He recited solemnly, before spinning on his heel to grab his bag.

Shoube snorted loudly in amusement before shoving on his crocs - he only kept them because his mother-in-law (and the rest of humanity) seemed to hate them - and jingling the keys to the beat up car.

They made their way to the tired old thing before sliding in clumsily. Shoyo sighed to himself as he slumped in the seat, Shoube turning up the radio to an obnoxiously loud pop tune.

Great. First, he comes to the realization that most of the team are either practically dating or have intentions of doing so. Second, he is forced to reluctantly add himself to that list. Third, he becomes a cursed Crow Prince.

He somehow felt like the entire thing was a bit ominous. He'd have to convince Natsu to get him un-cursed as soon as possible.

What could go wrong?

 _"What brothers say to tease their sisters has nothing to do with what they really think of them."_


	8. Sugar and Salt

As much as he'd like to say otherwise, Shoyo was the type of guy to hold a grudge.

Especially when the person to whom the grudge was directed was the crowned King of Sarcasm, His Royal Asshole Tsukishima Kei.

Shoyo would not hesitate to admit that the ease with which he dished out world crushing sass was awe inspiring. And down right awful. While Tsukishima's salty take downs were a valuable weapon against other teams - a fact that he appreciated in all the edgy stare downs the Karasuno team loved - it was regretfully turned against him when the man was bored. Which was often.

For all his admirable intellect, Tsukishima seemed to have trouble staying engaged when he wasn't egged into a fight or destroying someone's self worth with glee.

These traits together made Shoyo rather reluctant to call Tsukishima anything but an unwilling teammate. While most of the other team were separated into categories of 'Friend' and 'Senpai', both equally affectionate and occasionally overlapping, Tsukishima remained circling around the very edge of friendship. Like a wolf waiting for him to trip, so he could make the kill. And Shoyo would be damned if he tripped.

Of course along with Shittyshima, came the deceptively disarming presence of Yamaguchi Tadashi.

Yamaguchi was of the rare breed of man, that were entirely harmless almost all of the time, until provoked or encouraged. Tsukishima, the aloof bastard, was above encouragement unless it came to the Yamaguchi exception. Then he seemed all to willing to offer support.

Not that he needed to offer much. A smirk in Yamaguchi's direction and the kind, comforting, boy transformed into the same species of vicious, salt spewing, life-ruin-er as his best friend. It was actually terrifying. That's not to say that he was incapable of being a sadistic demon on his own.

Given the right prompting - an insult to Tsukishima's character (or lack there of), a challenge to the team, a personal attack on any of his friends - Yamaguchi was perfectly capable of making the change himself, albeit a little more clumsily.

It was a trait Shoyo had come to admire in the other boy; an impressive willingness to fight even when he looked like he was going to die from anxiety. That and the fact that he was actually a decent human being more than half the time - actually one of the most warm and considerate people Shoyo knew - helped him make the leap into the 'Friends' category.

That's not to say that he didn't sit near the edge dangling bait at Tsukishima and snickering at Shoyo's panic. Because everyone knew, where you found Tsukishima and Yamaguchi together you found mischief. And you always found them together. For reasons that Shoyo had slowly come to reluctantly acknowledged.

What Yamaguchi saw in that Sass Demon, Shoyo would never know.

Regardless, when Shoyo walked past the gates that morning for practice, he readied himself to confront Tsukishima. He knew letting the bad blood between them settle would only stagnate the air and hinder the teamwork of the rest of the team. What bothered him the most though was that butting heads with Tsukishima inevitably meant butting heads with Yamaguchi.

He didn't want to do that. He liked Yamaguchi, he really did.

With a sigh he decided that he had to respect the fact they were, inevitably and annoyingly, a team through some weird mutual reliance that Shoyo saw but couldn't quite wrap his head around. He guessed he really didn't have to. It wasn't his business after all.

He was pulled from his despondent thoughts by something coming at his face quickly.

Pulling it off he saw that it was a dark blue scarf. He blinked at it in confusion, before looking around for it's origin.

When he found it he was surprised to see Kageyama, leaning against the edge of the gate, hands stuffed in his pockets and face burrowing into his coat. He stared at him with annoyance in his dark blue eyes and Shoyo could only think that his frost nipped cheeks were a good look on him.

"You were shivering, dumbass. Where the hell's your coat?" He sounded annoyed and Shoyo wondered if it was because he hadn't worn a coat or because Kageyama had to give him his scarf.

Smiling broadly, he wrapped the scarf around his neck with gusto before breathing in the scent of it deeply. Smelled like Kageyama. Score.

Looking up he saw Kageyama watching him, embarrassed, his cheeks red from more than the cold, before looking away sharply. Shoyo couldn't help but laugh at that.

"Left it at home. Didn't get to check the weather this morning!" He chirped, starting to skip his way into the school. Funny how he wasn't quite as down now.

"It's almost winter, idiot. You shouldn't have to." Muttered Kageyama from beside him. He always was grumpy in the morning. Truthfully Shoyo had forgone checking the weather in favor of sticking his head out his bedroom window, forgetting that weather high on the other side of the mountain wouldn't be the same. Still a little chill in the morning would only help to wake him up.

"No big deal, it's not snowing yet so I'm fine!" He assured Kageyama happily. For his part, the other seemed hardly impressed and vaugley like he wanted to reach out and strangle the shorter boy. Shoyo giggled at his sour face and leaned into him so their shoulders brushed as they walked.

Kageyama, blushing harder and hiding in his coat's high collar, resolutely looked ahead as he leaned back into him. Shoyo couldn't help but to grin broadly at him.

Maybe it would be easier to make up with Tsukishima if Kageyama was there.

He could do anything easier if Kageyama was there.

* * *

Morning practice had come and gone; a dark cloud looming over the gym.

Shoyo had decided to make up with Tsukishima. That didn't mean he wasn't going to let him suffer a little bit first.

The team had actively been trying to avoid the issue; dancing skillfully around it in a manner that reminded Shoyo of the infamous Ashai-Noya showdown back when they first made their return to the team.

Tsukishima remained uncharacteristically quiet the entire time. He acted aloof and uninterested, even while Shoyo saw him tense under the worried looks Suga would flick between them. Yamaguchi had always been a more apt reflection of Tsukishima's state of mind, and if the frantic and pleading glances he kept tossing between the two of them were anything to go by he wasn't handling this very well.

For his part Shoyo had been actively ignoring Tsukishima's presence, both on and off the court. He was still energetic and cheerful; a ball of sunshine as he'd often been called.

He just happened to completely bypass Tsukishima's entire existence. Sure it affected the practice and he felt bad, but seeing the way Tsukishima's shoulders tensed under everyone's worried glances was worth it.

By far the most surprising - and maybe even flattering - of responses was Kageyama's.

Shoyo was certain he didn't really understand why Shoyo was so upset with the tall blonde, but that didn't seem to stop him from being equally peeved. Where Shoyo ignored his presence, Kageyama had been throwing around enough dirty glares to soil anyone's day. It seemed the very fact that Tsukishima had provoked such a negative reaction from Shoyo was enough to put him in Kageyama's bad book.

Shoyo'd be lying if he said the thought didn't make him want to grin.

Still, Shoyo figured it was time to end this. Tsukishima hadn't been able to make eye contact with either of the coaches or even Suga and Daichi for more than a few seconds and Shoyo had to say that was enough proof that Tsukishima was ashamed of what happened. He may not be sorry for what he said but he was definitely regretting the results.

Afternoon practice would start in a few minutes so Shoyo made his way to the gymnasium, meeting up with Kageyama on the way.

Walking into the gym they announced their presence to Daichi who had somehow beat them today. He nodded to them with a weary smile, and Shoyo felt a little guiltier for the stress this fight must be putting the Captain under. The rest of the team began to filter in as they went to change and start their warm up stretches.

Tsukishima entered behind Yamaguchi, expression annoyed per usual but stance unsure. Yamaguchi stepped forward, smile on his face, and greeted them all warmly. Tsukishima reluctantly followed in, muttering his own greetings.

Shoyo turned toward them excitedly and gave his best smile. "Hey Yamaguchi, Tsukishima!"

They both jerked in surprise, not expecting a response, and stared at him in confusion. Shoyo smiled before skipping over to them and smiling wider.

"Hey Tsukishima, do you wanna practice blocking against me and Kageyama? We need to work on getting through them," he chirped in question, causing Tsukishima to stare at him blankly for a moment. He quickly seemed to remember himself and hesitantly smirked in reply.

"If you want to get through them then why are you asking me?"

Shoyo smirked at him in return, "Well, you could always use some practice too, ya know?"

Tsukishima scowled at him and Shoyo smiled back innocently.

The gym let out a sigh of relief.

* * *

The end of practice was either one of two things. A loud evacuation of the gym to spread their chaos to the outside world. Or a quiet shuffling into the cool night and a slow trip home.

Something that could be said about the team was that they were a group of extremes. They very rarely settled anywhere between chaotic excitement and calm focus, always on one end of the spectrum or the other.

This was one of those quiet nights. Most of the second-years had already said their good byes and left and those remaining were content to quietly pack up their things while talking amongst themselves.

However, tension still lingered in the first-years. Though they'd gotten along the entirety of practice - as much as they ever did - all of them acknowledged it for what it was. The problem wasn't resolved, the crux of the argument still hovered over them oppressively, but they'd managed to extend an olive branch for the time being.

A part of Tsukishima desperately wanted to leave it at that; pretend the argument never happened and settle into their usual estranged camaraderie. Hinata had stopped ignoring him which meant that the King would stop glaring at him and the Senpai would quit it with the worried glances.

The better part of Tsukishima knew that leaving it at that would only lead to rising tensions, bad teamwork, and repeats of the same argument in the future. To be frank, it would be more of a headache than just getting the damn thing over with.

So here he was, standing outside the gym doors with Yamaguchi shuffling nervously next to him and Kageyama staring him down blankly from the other side. He did his best to maintain the nonchalance of his posture but they all knew what this was about.

They were waiting for Hinata. They were going to talk this out. Were going to try to figure how Tsukishima had overstepped this time and hurt the hobbit's feelings.

Feelings. Ugh.

"Sorry, I had to refill my water bottle! Alright, let's get out of here!" Hinata shouted, practically leaping out the front door of the gym. He really had no right having that much energy after pushing himself so hard in practice. Tsukishima was starting to feel like an old man the more time he spent around him.

Kageyama grunted in reply, nodding his head over to where Yamaguchi and him were standing. Hinata turned to look at them in confusion, tilting his head to the side with a question in his eyes. He felt Yamaguchi shuffle closer to his side in encouragement.

Bracing himself he sighed and shifted his weight lazily. "We need to talk, Shrimp."

Hinata stared at him blankly and Tsukishima felt his impatience rise. A part of him tried to reason that the kid must be thinking about a response but he quickly dismissed the thought. How could anyone have such a stupidly blank thinking face?

"Yeah, I guess," the red-head muttered petulantly, shifting uncomfortably. At least Tsukishima wasn't the only one uncomfortable with the situation. Tsukishima watched him shuffle for a moment, rolling his eyes when the King shifted slightly closer as if to comfort Hinata.

"Maybe not in the middle of the doorway, yeah?" He groused, walking farther around to the side of the building. As expected he heard the others shuffling to follow a moment later. Once they were out of sight of the gym entrance he leaned against the wall with a huff, making sure they all knew how inconvenient this was for him. Yamaguchi shuffled over to crouch a few steps off to the side, apparently hunkering in for a long conversation.

The freak duo stood opposite to them, Kageyama leaning against the fence separating the gym from the track field, watching as Hinata shifted from foot to foot seeming to formulate what he wanted to say. Tsukishima was growing tired of watching him flounder through complex thought processes, and was about to speak up when the kid seemed to figure it out.

"I don't like it when people talk bad about my sister," he blurted, eyes snapping up to meet Tsukishima's.

Tsukishima didn't really know what to say that.

It was an understandable sentiment. People bad mouthing his brother was never his favorite situation to be sure, but he'd also never gone off on someone he knew was talking out of their ass. Not like Hinata had.

If there was one thing he'd come to appreciate about the guy, it'd be that Hinata could handle his bullshit.

Being blunt and rude was a part of his personality that Tsukishima didn't really mind, though he knew it to be extremely off putting for others. Though he admitted that it could be difficult at times to judge when a comment would go to far.

Yamaguchi and he had run into the problem in the early years of their friendship and had implemented a simple rule; when Tsukishima crossed the line between simply giving him a hard time and actually being an ass, Yamaguchi was - by terms of their friendship - required to call him out. Tsukishima had made it very clear that if he said something that actually bothered the smaller boy and wasn't made aware he would be pissed when he eventually did find out. And there was no question that he'd find out.

That being said, he had mastered the art of judging where he could poke at people over the years. It was rare cases like Hinata that threw him off. Hinata was extraordinarily thick. Thick skinned and thick skulled, too. He didn't process half the jabs made at him and even when he did, didn't allow much more than shallow offense to affect him. Though his personality grated against Tsukishima's patience, this trait of his made him remarkably suited for him to be around.

In short, Hinata was a good person for Tsukishima to spend time with without overthinking every jab that came out of his mouth.

But then there were always exceptions, weren't there?

The trouble with human interaction, Tsukishima had learned, was all the individual quirks and idiosyncrasies one had to learn to co-exist with someone. Everyone had sore spots that were off-limits for them, but perfectly acceptable fodder for teasing to anyone else.

Hinata's, it seemed, was his sister. Or perhaps, Tsukishima thought, his family in general. Judging by the way he'd spoken about his father the few times he had, it wouldn't be to large a jump.

"That can't be all of it," he replied with a raised eyebrow. Certainly, saying Hinata 'didn't like it' wasn't enough of a reason for him to react the way he had. Hinata didn't 'like' a lot of the things Tsukishima said- that was the point. This was much deeper than that. Tsukishima needed to understand what the root of the problem was if he wanted to avoid tripping over it again. This was far too much trouble to go through twice.

Kageyama finally stopped studying Hinata and flicked his eyes up to Tsukishima at the statement. He could see the gears turning in his mind - remarkably slow off the court for all he was a genius on it. Hinata scrunched his face up in another one of his signature pouts, this one, Tsukishima supposed, was meant to say something along the lines of 'well obviously, but words are hard'.

With a huff Tsukishima settled against the wall more comfortably, flicking his gaze to Yamaguchi who looked smugly at him. The bastard knew from the start this was going to take a while. Damn him.

"I _really_ don't like it when people make light of her Gymnastics skills," Hinata finally spoke up, seeming to struggle to express the right feelings. "She tries too hard."

Tsukishima raised an eyebrow in surprise at that. That was interesting. There was something there, a deeper meaning in his statement. He was reevaluating his opinion of Hinata now, much to his chagrin. It seemed that for as difficult as it was to drill ideas through that skull, it was equally as difficult to get them out. For all he was an idiot, Hinata was capable of complex thought and feeling underneath the dumbassery, it seemed.

Well, now Tsukishima just had to drag the damn point out of him. He really did not have the patience for this.

Yamaguchi nudged his leg chidingly, and nodded his head toward Hinata in a gesture that was supposed to mean 'you started this, now help the poor guy out'. Tsukishima sighed loudly, obviously hassled.

"How does she try too hard?" He asked slowly, as if talking to a child. To anyone else it would be patronizing but Hinata was too busy thinking about his answer to notice. While Hinata thought to himself, Tsukishima marveled at the fact that here he was in his first year of high school coaching an idiot through meaningful conversation. Where had he gone wrong?

"She's only a kid, but she practices more than she actually plays," he finally answered with a worried frown, "and sometimes she gets hurt." He scowled at this, obviously recalling a particularly frustrating incident. "She pushes herself too hard. Two years ago she tried a stunt she definitely wasn't ready for and sprained her ACL," Tsukishima couldn't help be a little surprised at that, "luckily she didn't need surgery or anything but as soon as she was recovered she just went and did the same thing!" Hinata kicked at a rock in frustration.

"Did she get it?" Kageyama asked, breaking his silence.

Everyone turned to blink at him in surprise and he seemed to realize he'd spoken out of turn. He coughed quickly and looked away "The stunt, I mean."

Hinata nodded his head slightly and let a small smile slip onto his face. "She's the only kid in her level to pull it off, " he replied with pride, " though she's not allowed to use it in competition, yet. She's only nine, they're worried people will start expecting to much of her or something."

Tsukishima felt his eyebrow twitch at that. He was just surrounded by prodigies lately wasn't he? Still if the kid was half as obsessed as her brother, he could see how that would become worrying. Busting an ACL was no joke, tearing one could end an athletes carrier. He couldn't imagine the toll that would take on someone as single minded as the Hinata's seemed to be.

Once again he found himself surprised at this new aspect to the idiot.

If you'd have asked him before this fiasco began to venture a guess as to Hinata's greatest worries he'd have answered with a snarky jab at his volleyball-centric attitude or how much rice he could fit in his mouth. Now though, it occurred to him that there was more to the kid than the single mindedness he'd presumed.

Not that he didn't think those worries were still high on the red-head's list. He wasn't going to change his entire opinion of Hinata because he had a few coherent thoughts once in a while.

So Hinata gets protective over his sister. Moreover, he gets openly hostile when her skills are insulted even in the slightest.

So Hinata worries about her single minded drive to succeed.

So she seems like the type to kill herself in the name of excellence and passion.

So it seems the Icarus complex runs in the family.

In a strange epiphany Tsukishima wondered if Hinata blamed himself for that.

He wondered if that's why Hinata's reaction was so violent.

He nodded his head in acceptance to the red-head, disturbing implications of the other's mental state swirling through his mind.

"Alright then, no more gymnastics or little sister jabs. Disregard the faux pas, it wasn't my intention." Even Yamaguchi seemed surprised at the placating words- as close to 'I'm sorry' as most had ever gotten from him.

Hinata watched him for a moment, confused, before he seemed to sift through to the true meaning of Tsukishima's statement. His face relaxed in relief and Tsukishima was surprised that he hadn't ever realized it was tense. Hinata nodded and smiled in that friendly way he did- and Tsukishima sometimes wonders if he really _does_ consider them friends or if that's just the way he is.

"Thank you!" He chirped before skipping toward the school gates jabbering something about stopping by Ukai's shop for meat buns.

Tsukishima ignored Yamaguchi side-eyeing him as they follow - it just so happens he's hungry too, it's not like they're going as a group -and he knew Yamaguchi wanted in on whatever epiphany he just had, so he clicked his tongue in a way that suggested annoyance but to the practiced ear said 'later'. Yamaguchi shrugged and bumped into his side casually - a show of solidarity or annoyance Tsukishima couldn't tell.

He made it a point to remember this conversation the next time Hinata's family comes up.

Tsukishima knew he was an asshole, and usually didn't mind, but this misstep almost crossed a line he wasn't aware he'd set for himself.

Even he wasn't cruel enough to set the match to the boy's wax wings.

 _"Forgiveness is not about forgetting. It is about letting go of another person's throat."_

 _"Never regret thy fall, O Icarus of the fearless flight. For the greatest tragedy of them all. Is never to feel the burning light."_


	9. Early Bird

"I can't believe they talked it out."

Daichi Sawamura was not usually in the habit of betting on other people's personal lives.

However, when those personal lives caused him undue stress he found himself more easily swayed. Especially when Suga had bet a good chunk of his allowance on the outcome. And, well, he'd been eyeing a new pair of sports shoes recently.

He could afford to take part in some vaguely shady deals as long as no one got hurt, right?

The weight of his wallet was a resounding 'no'. He really needed to stop making these bets with Suga.

"If they couldn't resolve an argument between team mates do you honestly think they'd have made it this far?" Suga was as smug as he ever was after winning these wagers, counting his profit with an unnecessary flourish.

Not for the first time Daichi lamented the state of his life. To the outside eye Sugawara Koushi was an attractive man with a calming aura and a pleasant, accepting manner. He encouraged and believed in those around him to an admirable extent, always pushing them to be the best versions of themselves.

While all these things were undeniable fact, Diachi was privy to the fact that - deep in his heart and under all the genuine niceties - Suga was a fucking asshole.

He could be as petty and vindictive as Tsukishima if he felt he was justified, and he never passed up an opportunity to bring up those embarrassing mistakes Daichi would rather be forgotten. Mischief was a hobby of his, and more than half the pranks that occurred regularly around the school could somehow be traced back to him.

Not that he'd ever be caught, after all 'Sugawara is such a considerate person he'd never do something like that!', seemed to be the general consensus on campus. Even if his reputation failed him, Daichi was sure it wouldn't matter- Suga was much more willing to plant ill-advised plots in the minds of others than to actively go about it himself.

Daichi - never one to back down - gave as good as he got. This had the unfortunate effect of looping back around and biting him in the ass, as to the rest of the world Suga could never possibly have a malicious bone in his angelic body. He'd lost track of the times he'd gone and said something teasingly callous or mocking and he'd been bombarded with outrage and shock from those surrounding him. All while Suga very unhelpfully looked vaguely confused or embarrassed.

So yes, the teasing in their relationship was a very private affair in order to avoid labeling Daichi as some kind of horrible, angel insulting, blasphemer. If they only knew the face Suga made when goading him into these morally ambiguous bets, Daichi was sure opinions would change. Then again it was a rather attractive look, in a devilish way, so maybe he was the one winning here.

He supposes he should be grateful he's one of the few people Suga feels comfortable enough around to joke with like this. Sneaky bastard makes even losing to him an enjoyable experience. Yet another point on Suga's side of the board.

"I suppose Hinata forgiving him wasn't that surprising," Daichi huffs in concession, walking away from the wall they were eavesdropping from, "but I never thought Tsukishima would apologize."

Suga hums thoughtfully at his side as they go to grab their bags and lock up the gym. Coach Ukai had left as soon as practice ended to work at his store, entrusting them with the cleanup of the gymnasium.

"Maybe, but I think there's more to it," Suga mused as they made their way off campus, "I think maybe Tsukishima figured out what Hinata _really_ meant." He frowned in thought as he spoke, trying to puzzle out the message himself.

"What do you mean?" Daichi threw him a confused glance, lightly grabbing his sleeve to prevent him from walking forward into traffic as he thought. Suga hardly seemed to notice.

"I mean, Hinata can be really simple," he waved his hand as if to explain, "but sometimes I get this feeling like there's something _more_ he's trying to express that he just can't... I don't know? Find the words for?" He rubbed at his brow tiredly as he said this and Daichi realized he must have been thinking about it for a while.

"Well I can see how it would be hard for him, he's not very good with words," Daichi nodded in thought, "but he always manages to express it somehow. He's not the type to just let heavy stuff settle, you know?" The kid was more liable to resort to weird sounds and charades than to let something go unsaid. He frowned in concern as Suga sighed tiredly. Daichi hoped he got his message across. He didn't want Suga to worry himself sick over something that was probably nothing.

Suga frowned in concern but seemed to at least think about what he had said.

"I know you're all about that 'communication is the key to relationships' stuff, but maybe Hinata really means just what he says," Daichi sighed, "if you're that worried we'll talk to him about it, alright?"

To his surprise, Suga's frown deepened into a grimace. The other man shook his head lightly, huffing in frustration.

"No, that won't do," he grouched to the traffic light as they started to cross the street, "we wouldn't even know what to say to get him to talk. You're right, he wouldn't normally let something that bothered him settle." He finally turned to meet Daichi's eyes, fully engaged in the conversation and out of his head. "But we've never had to deal with something that _really_ bothered him."

At Daichi's confused expression he groaned in frustration, searching for what he was trying to say. Daichi found himself laughing at the parallel to their current dilemma. Hinata being stuck for words was expected but Suga? That was a rare occurrence even between the two of them. Suga elbowed him gently in the ribs as a reprimand.

"I mean, anything that did more than annoy or frustrate him," he continued with his explanation, "we don't know how he deals with serious problems." He turned back to face the road as they turned a corner with a frown and a worried furrow to his brow.

"We don't know how to deal with how _he_ deals." The resigned tone to that statement sent a twinge of unease through Daichi and he shifted a little closer as they walked.

"You really think there's something there, don't you?" He tried to inject some comfort into the question but he couldn't tell if it hit the mark. Suga nodded morosely, leaning closer to him in a silent bid for support. Daichi gladly shifted into his side to accept.

Silence ruled the night for a few blocks as they fretted equally between them. Daichi had come to rely on Suga's instincts over the years- he had a sense for these things, always on the lookout for the slightest change in someone's behavior. He was the type to look out for those around him, supporting them without being overbearing. It was something Daichi admired and had come to rely on to even out his own commanding presence.

"Well," he shifted Suga's head onto his shoulder more firmly, "we can talk to Tsukishima about it. You said it's likely he at least has an idea, right?" Truthfully Daichi was putting more stock in the idea the longer he thought about it. Tsukishima was never one to give in so easily, even if Daichi knew he didn't feel half as much animosity toward Hinata as he liked to pretend.

So for him to all but ask for forgiveness at such a shaky explanation must have a deeper meaning. The look on his face before he said it was evidence enough. He looked genuinely surprised and even a little uncomfortable, as if he'd realized something he'd rather not have. Whatever it was Suga and he had heard underneath Hinata's words was starting to really weigh on Daichi's mind.

As smart as Tsukishima was Daichi doubted he'd surmised the entirety of the issue from that seemingly straight forward conversation. Especially since Daichi didn't get more than an off feeling from it. If whatever it was had Tsukishima backing off from the glimpse he'd seen, it must've been heavy. Daichi was apprehensive to say the least.

Suga looked up at him appraisingly before a soft, proud smile spread onto his face. "Yeah, that's a good plan." He sighed contentedly against Daichi's shoulder, humming as they continued their walk home. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that Suga knew how uncomfortable this made him. The thought that he was proud of him for confronting it anyway made a smile of his own stretch across his face.

He supposed it couldn't be all that terrible. Talking to the kid about his problems was part of his duty as team captain. Besides, the problem didn't seem to be that severe. Hinata's behavior hadn't shifted drastically and he still performed the same in practice. If it was anything serious then the signs would have been more obvious.

A little uncomfortable conversation and they could resolve whatever this problem was. Suga would be reassured, Tsukishima would get that uncomfortable look off his face, and Daichi could rest easy. Piece of cake.

For now he'd get some rest and hope for the best.

Suga hummed softly as they made their way through the quiet night, the town asleep, soft traffic lights filtering over their faces. Daichi's hand that rested on Suga's hip tapped gently along to the rhythm. They parted at Suga's front door, exchanging soft goodbyes before Daichi made his way to the bus station.

They ignored the uneasiness in their guts as the crows watched them part from their perches.

There were always so many crows in this town.

* * *

Morning had come and with it came the anticipation of a stressful encounter.

Coach Ukai had been less than pleased to receive the call from his team's Captain so early in the morning, but he'd always gotten the feeling that Daichi was an early riser. And after the phone call had ended with an agreement to meet up slightly earlier for morning practice than usual he still wasn't sure if he should be annoyed or not.

While a part of him wanted to dismiss what Daichi had described as 'an odd feeling about Hinata's state of mind' as hormonal teenage imbalance that he really shouldn't be bothered with, another was willing to concede that the obvious passive animosity between the shrimp and the glasses kid was out of character.

He was a curious man by nature and that alone was what had dragged his ass out of bed this early. That and perhaps the niggling feeling that if he didn't take every hint of disruption within the team seriously, his grandfather would teleport into the room and kick his ass.

Long story short, here he was at Karasuno High way too early in the damned morning on account of suspicions that the jumping tangerine was feeling cranky.

He had to remind himself for the hundredth time that lighting up on school campus was strictly prohibited. He was really jonesing for a cigarette, though. Maybe he could convince the kids to have their little intervention at an outdoor cafe? Or maybe a park?

He was broken from his musing by a jovial greeting and a bright smile in the distance. He steeled himself for the ungodly abomination that was a morning person before turning to greet Sugawara as best he could.

Sugawara jogged up to him happily, hair and clothes in perfect order, bright smile on his face and clear skin glowing in enthusiasm for the day ahead. Ukai had to restrain himself from asking what fucking drugs the kid was on.

He noticed Sawamura behind him, dragging his feet in a listless shuffle behind Sugawara's trail of sparkles. Ukai's assumption had been wrong it seemed. Bless the boy, he looked properly dead inside, with dark bags under his bleary eyes and bedhead in full force. Ukai felt his annoyance fade in sympathy with the kindred spirit before him. When Sawamura sluggishly noticed his presence they exchanged nods of greeting and mutual suffering.

"I hope we didn't keep you waiting, Coach!" Sugawara was chirping at him, moving toward the gym. Seriously what was wrong with this kid?

"Nah, I just got here a little bit ago," he tried his best to sound more sociable than he felt, "what time is Hinata going to get here?" Welp, that was blunt. Good job, Keishin, that's definitely how you make kids comfortable around you.

Sugawara blinked at him blankly before cracking a smile and flicking his gaze to Sawamura who was looking vaguely comatose from the spot where he stood. So now he knew that Ukai was not an early riser, though he managed to hide it better than Sawamura over there. There were worse things for the kid to learn about him, he supposed.

"He should be here in about thirty minutes if we timed this right," Sugawara answered more slowly this time- voice less obtrusive than before, "him and Kageyama are always the first one's here in the morning."

What the fuck was wrong with all of these kids? They got up at this time every day? And Ukai would bet his right arm that Hinata did it happily too. Thinking back to his high school days, Ukai couldn't really remember a time he was actually conscious until the second half of morning practice. Even now, he left set up and warm ups to the Captain and Vice-Catptain. He justified it with the thought that they'd already been all but operating on their own before he signed on and that it gave them added responsibility. Truthfully he was just grateful for the extra half hour of rest. That is when he didn't have to go work on that damn farm in the morning.

"They come in together every day?" He could admit to being surprised. The two were inseparable sure, but as rough as Kageyama was in the morning Ukai somehow doubted the red head's chatter would be appreciated. He'd been wrong about these things before though, so he didn't put much faith in his assumptions anymore.

Sugawara set down his bag along the wall before reaching back to usher Sawamura to do the same. "Yeah, they usually end up racing to the club room," he said flippantly as he pulled a thermos out of his bag and poured out a cup of what looked to be coffee. "It gets Kageyama to wake up properly at least and Hinata seems to enjoy it." He handed the cup to Sawamura before offering some to Ukai.

Turning down the offer on the basis that Sawamura could use it more, Ukai shook his head in exasperation. If he ever had kids he prayed they wouldn't be half as rambunctious as his team tended to be. He'd go grey early, even through his dye job.

"What's the game plan, then?" He really hoped they came into this with more than 'let's just ask him what's wrong'. From his experience people never actually opened up to that, even if they were in touch with themselves enough to know. Somehow Ukai doubted Hinata was introspective enough to articulate his feelings even when prompted.

Sugawara seemed to think the same if the sour look on his face was anything to go by.

"We were going to start with talking to him about the incident with Tsukishima," Sawamura answered as he handed his empty cup back to the other boy, "it's impersonal enough to not cause alarm and well within our rights as team leaders to question." Ukai nodded along in acceptance, grateful that the coffee had booted up the Captain's brain enough to converse properly.

"Alright, so how do you plan to segue to his- what'd you call it, mental state?" He followed up with a raised eyebrow. The sheepish look on the boy's faces was not comforting in the slightest. They exchanged a nervous glance or two before Sugawara shrugged in a 'what can you do' gesture.

"We may or may not have been eavesdropping on their reconciliation," Sawamura admitted with a resigned sigh, "purely out of concern I assure you." Sugawara snorted unattractively at that, before Daichi shot him an annoyed glare.

Ukai wasn't stupid enough to buy that but was too tired to let it bother him. "Alright, and?" He hoped this wasn't the farthest they'd gotten, he didn't have the energy to spitball ideas with them.

"That's actually where we became concerned," Sugawara spoke up, worry evident in his voice as he seemed to recall the scene, "the way Hinata tried to explain what his issue with Tsukishima was left me with some questions, but the way Tsukishima reacted has me seriously concerned."

Ukai frowned at the boy, trying to decipher what exactly had happened. He looked to Sawamura for an answer.

"Hinata had struggled with an answer, as you'd expect, but when he finally came up with one Tsukishima backed down without a fight," Sawamura supplied while crossing his arms in frustration, "I'm sure you realize how out of character that is for him."

"So you think Tsukishima knows something about it that we don't?" Ukai asked, calculating gaze flickering between the two. They nodded in reply. "What makes you think it's anything serious? It's likely just some personal feud or something."

They both shook their heads in unison, promptly dismissing the notion.

"You should've seen the look on Tsukishima's face, Coach." Sawamura looked uncomfortable just recalling it.

"He looked like he'd accidentally said something unforgivable,"Sugawara tried to explain, "like making a Cancer joke in a terminal ward or something."

Ukai blinked in surprise. If Tsukishima looked like he'd fucked up that bad then maybe there was cause for concern.

From what he knew of their argument Hinata had reacted badly to a casual comment that, while crass, wasn't altogether different from Tsukishima's normal repertoire. It was entirely likely that someone could trip the switch by accident and cause severe damage to the team again.

In that case Ukai could see the need for a clearer picture of the cause of the issue, if only for teamwork's sake.

"Alright, I think I get the picture," he nodded in decision at the boys, "here's what we'll do."

Sugawara and Sawamura watched with rapt attention as he laid out their game plan, eerily similar to a volleyball play.

"We'll watch Hinata today and see if we can't spot any strange behavior," they nodded in acceptance before he continued, "and we'll talk to Tsukishima after practice and try to figure this thing out."

The boy's agreed readily before he dismissed them to open the club room, noting that Hinata and Kageyama would arrive soon.

Walking behind the gym he decided that, rules be damned, he really needed a cigarette. Crouching against the wall, he took a deep drag before looking over the fence in front of him.

Crows sat watching him stoically, several feet from a group of common finches perched on the same fence.

One of the crows took off silently, swooping down to startle the smaller birds, causing one to fall for one frightening minute before it righted itself just before impact.

The group of small birds vacated the premises in fright.

The crows seemed to almost laugh at the game of it.

Ukai wondered why it was that even birds had to be assholes.

What would it take to make a crow feel guilty?

" _Goodnight, Early Bird and pray the night bird's leave you be. Owls nor crows care for song or warmth, my love. Goodnight, Early Bird and pray the fate's keep you with me."_


	10. Engine Oil

The thing about being on a team was that you were obligated to care.

One had to care about the team's objective, one's performance, and rather unfortunately one's teammates.

One of the worst parts of that was the unequal distribution of emotional responsibility. They were all essentially one cohesive unit, a great machine with complex and unique parts which had different and specialized needs.

If the analogy were to continue, these parts formed systems of sorts. Different parts relying on each other more heavily than other more distant parts. Entire units operating in coinciding dances around each other, separate from other units but equally responsible and affected if any individual cog stopped turning.

Therefore a malfunction inside the jurisdiction of one system could wreak havoc on the machine as a whole before the other systems even knew there was a fault.

In short, most social circles and organizations separated into smaller groups of friends or acquaintances that were closer to each other than they were to the group as a whole. The Karasuno Boy's Volleyball team was no exception.

The third years had their own dynamic. It let them all be something close to friends without bending or overstepping the bounds of their respective positions. Suga's authority never overpowered Daichi's, even if his word was often the final one on any given decision. Neither Kyoko nor Asahi were expected to defer to either of them as fully as the underclassman. On rare occasion jokes passed between them that were incomprehensible to others, and even Asahi could be seen teasing the others once in a blue moon.

Most of the second years had their own cluster of familiarity, Tanaka and Noya being something of an occasional guest at the proverbial table. The second years, not counting these anomalies, were a closed group, sometimes distant from the heart of the team. Ennoshita was undeniably their leader and the most likely of them to venture into the terrain of the other groups. Perhaps their distance- casual teammates with vague feelings of solidarity in smiles and tears, radically different to the almost kinship shared between the rest of the team- was a direct result of the infamous Exodus of Coach Ukai Sr.

They had quit when the going got tough.

Although neither their teammates or the Coach held it against them, it seemed they were unwilling to forget the blemish on their own records. So they kept themselves distant, a vague sense of unworthiness following them, as they cheered their hearts out and practiced till they formed callouses.

Tsukishima could admit to respecting commitment like that.

Though he personally doubts he'd ever find himself dedicated to a group enough to put himself through, what must be, a terribly strenuous redemption quest. The stress on their bodies alone was off-putting, not accounting for the mental hoops they must have jumped through.

Speaking of mental hoops.

The first years, he begrudgingly admits, had been one of these groups. In a strange, round about way, Hinata and Kageyama happened to be around Tsukishima when he was feeling particularly chatty enough to let his guard slip. Yamaguchi's presence constantly nearby, accepting and content with the new additions, may have given his subconscious leave to relax too much for his own good. They had settled into an easy camaraderie of sorts; Tsukishima picked at their faults, the two idiots would get pissed or confused, Yamaguchi would try to not laugh. Rinse. Repeat. Turn heat to high when bored.

It was causal, and in some strange way that may be vaguely sadistic, it was reassuring. Tsukishima could prod at them without much thought and though they got angry, he could always see that it was never more than shallow annoyance or outrage. They were, through virtue of thick skin or thick skulls, of the rare few people who could tolerate, dare he say, even like to be around him.

He liked to be around them.

And wasn't that a terrible thought. They were easy people to be around.

Their hotheadedness gave him a headache more often than he'd like, and their respective forms of stupidity made him feel as though he lost brain cells the more time he spent around them, but he could admit to feeling something more than indifference toward the pair at this point.

He wasn't fool enough to deny the way they all gravitated toward each other when in stressful situations. Though contrary to what others may assume, he doubted any of them did it out of comfort. Perhaps the pairs of them respectively provided some form of comfort to each other, but deep down he knew the reason the four of them ever ended up meshing as well as they did was out of necessity.

They were the youngest. The new kids. The low men on the totem pole, out of place and finding their way through the motions. They payed due respect to their upperclassman out of necessity, and let themselves go around each other out of the same. It wasn't so much friendship as it was mutual respect and belonging. They gravitated toward each other in the same way lone predators find and form packs with other loners. There is no friendship, no real understanding, only the unspoken trust and loyalty born for survival's sake.

And that was it really. On some level he could understand Yamaguchi and Yamaguchi understood him. He'd never entertained the possibility of understanding anything about Hinata or Kageyama, not really. He could understand the base reactions- _he's determined to excel because he was told he couldn't, he's conscious of criticism because of his middle school trauma, he gets up-in-arms about the team because they are his pride_ \- but the more complex reactions were a mystery to him. One he'd never been interested in.

Until now.

Now his ignorance, his assumption that simple men have simple minds and simple motives, was putting his delicate balance of a social circle in jeopardy.

Despite never going out of his way to form it, he had been put through an awful lot of trouble because of it, and he'd be damned if that was all for nothing because of one misspoken jab.

So here he was, sitting on his bed in the middle of the damn night, thinking about the implications of sibling responsibility and the impact of guilt on one's mental stability.

Wow, where had he gone wrong in life?

A knock on his door drew him out of his thoughts. Before he'd even moved to answer, it swung gently open to reveal Yamaguchi. The other boy stood awkwardly just inside the door frame, a hand raised shakily in greeting, the other curled around his waist. He'd changed out of his school clothes and made his way here after texting Tsukishima to expect him. For some reason he still insisted on looking nervous. Tsukishima didn't even bother to get off of the bed before throwing the other boy a withering glare.

"Aren't you supposed to wait to be let in?" He grouched as Yamaguchi smiled shyly in response.

"Sorry, Tsukki." He murmured, making his way toward the bed, and Tsukishima knew he wasn't sorry at all.

He sat down heavily next to the blonde, scooting up next to the wall and burrowing into blankets comfortably. Tsukishima watched him with the thought that he resembled a nesting hamster. Goddammit, this was his bed not a couch.

Yamaguchi poked his leg with socked feet, a decidedly annoying gesture, but Tsukishima only managed to huff grumpily in response. Yamaguchi kept poking him until he resigned and leaned against the wall himself. The shorter boy watched him carefully for a moment before cocking his head slightly in concern.

"What's wrong, Tsukki?" He prodded gently, a slight frown marring his freckled face.

Tsukishima slid his gaze toward him silently, thinking through his response. Yamaguchi was twisting his hands in his lap like he did when he knew the answer but needed Tsukishima to put it out in the open.

Yamaguchi was rather fond of Hinata. Kageyama too, but Hinata especially. They got along well and Yamaguchi seemed to enjoy the other boy's company and presence. Naturally being friends with Tsukishima had always been an inhibitor to the other boy's social life, already made difficult by his natural shyness. It was times like this when Tsukishima genuinely wondered if it was worth it.

"Thinking about Shrimpy." He answered curtly. Yamaguchi continued to stare at him, the faint freckles around his eyes standing out against the relative smoothness of his face. His lips twisted slightly, not as much a change of expression as a twitch, but Tsukishima could read him just fine. He was waiting for elaboration, more than the obvious statement thrown at him.

With a sigh Tsukishima continued, already annoyed with the conversation, "Don't you think it's strange?" Yamaguchi rose an eyebrow in encouragement to continue. "How defensive he got about his sister like that?"

Yamaguchi watched him silently for another moment before turning to look at the far wall and humming in thought. He pursed his lips lightly and squinted, his face turning into a strange picture of concentration that Tsukishima struggled not to laugh at. Eventually he hummed in agreement, nodding almost to himself. "He's normally a lot more resilient, true," the brunet agreed softly, gaze sliding to the bed they sat on as he picked at it in thought, "it must have struck a chord, I guess?"

Tsukishima hummed in agreement, sliding down the wall until he was practically laying down next to his friend.

Yamaguchi watched him carefully before realization seemed to dawn and his gaze sharpened in suspicion. "You think there's something more there, don't you?"

Tsukishima smirked up at the other boy, vaguely proud at the connection he'd drawn. He huffed out a sigh by way of response, waving a hand in the air flippantly.

"All I'm thinking is that for such a personable guy to flip like that, there's more than one bad comment at play." Yamaguchi eyed him suspiciously, wrinkles forming between his brows as he fought to see the meaning behind Tsukishima's conjecture.

Eventually Yamaguchi's concentration slipped into pouting and he fell onto his side, flopping over Tsukishima's stomach dramatically.

"Tsukki," he sighed, half a whine, "I'm normally good at this 'read-between-the-lines' stuff but can you just spell it out for me this time?" He rolled over subtly, getting comfortable on the taller boy's bony torso. "Please?"

Tsukishima sighed, feigning annoyance, but ran his hand through Yamaguchi's hair in a comforting gesture. "Just this time," he relented with a roll of his eyes, "because you look tired and we all know how difficult thinking can be when you're tired." His tone was teasing and perhaps a little mean but Yamaguchi just snorted in reply before whacking his leg harshly.

"I'm thinking," he began, steering the conversation back to the point, "there's some past trauma going on here."

He held his breath subtly, watching as Yamaguchi tensed against him, alarm straightening the soft lines of relaxation he'd only just managed to ease into. Yamaguchi didn't turn to face him, but Tsukishima could hear the nervous frown he must have worn in the silence before he replied.

"Trauma?" He asked quietly, worry dripping through his coaxing curiosity. Tsukishima realized how leading that statement must have been, but couldn't really rule out whatever 'trauma' Yamaguchi had conjured up in his anxious mind. He didn't have any real evidence on what kind of trauma he meant.

"It might not be anything too bad," he reassured the freckled boy, despite the fact he knew it really could be that bad, "it's entirely possible it was just one bad accident that happened to stick with him somehow."

It was also entirely possible there was a huge black hole of a traumatic incident that caused the normally friendly and open Hinata to become hostile and closed when it came to his family. Thinking back to the not-quite-fight, Tsukishima was willing to bet that whatever put Hinata on the defensive so strongly was awful. He'd never seen anyone- anything have a look like that.

Except maybe he had.

When he was younger, he'd had a phase where he'd sought out the most brutal, most intense nature documentaries he could find. The bloodier the better. It was one of those strange phases he'd quickly grown out of and never looked back on. But the look in Hinata's eyes brought it all rushing back.

He remembers seeing those same eyes in a documentary. This one detailed the feeding habits of carnivorous birds of prey. It was one of the worst of the films he'd managed to acquire, and even his unwavering curiosity had given way to queasiness at the sight of the way the birds hunted, and killed their prey. They way they tore it limb from limb. Slowly, haltingly, fighting with each other, almost as if it were a game.

In that moment Hinata had the same eyes as those birds.

The same gold, the same sharpness, the clarity. The unflinching gaze, searching for every move, watching, waiting. Mocking. Hungry. Cold.

The Hinata he knew seemed almost a different person to the one who'd looked at him then. As if he were a mouse to be watched, toyed with, torn apart as it struggled desperately.

Whatever had happened to cause that shift was big. It was big and dark and it was angry. It prowled around the edges of the boy's mind waiting for someone to slip. It made him angry, it made him defensive, unwilling to share things that he normally would.

It hadn't slipped Tsukishima's notice that Hinata rarely talked about his family beyond brief mentions of his sister. For such a chatty person, it had always struck Tsukishima as a little out of character. He talked incessantly about anything and everything, except it seemed, himself and his family.

Tsukishima could probably reluctantly list the names of all the rag-tag members of the idiot's middle school volleyball team, but if asked anything about Hinata's personal life he would draw a blank.

Red flags raised on numerous occasions now, Tsukishima was less than willing to let sleeping dogs lie. Had it not affected him personally he'd be reluctant to touch the issue with a ten-foot pole, but now? Now, he was annoyed.

"You don't think it's some small accident though, do you, Tsukki?" Yamaguchi was frowning up at him now, that rare challenging glint in his eye.

Tsukishima liked this glint in particular, the one that said _Don't lie to me, I'm no fool._

It showed that, contrary to popular belief, Yamaguchi had his pride and he wouldn't let someone walk all over it. Not even Tsukishima.

Most people assumed Yamaguchi was his lackey, someone he kept around to laugh at his jokes and back up his wit. What they were too stupid to realize was that Tsukishima didn't need nor want a lackey. What he needed was someone to expand on his jokes with an unexpected comeback. Someone to text him what he should have said in a argument that happened three hours ago, someone to call him out on his bullshit, and someone to tell him that just because his natural reaction to others was snark didn't mean he wasn't still a good person.

Sometimes it was conversations like these, where Yamaguchi read and pushed him out of his carefully calculated behaviors that reminded Tsukishima that perhaps weighing the odds and taking the safest route wasn't the right answer.

It would be so easy to tell Yamaguchi that he was worried over nothing, that Hinata would be fine, and maybe he'd be able to believe it eventually too.

But with Yamaguchi looking at him like that, like he knew he was right on the edge of lying to them both, like he was willing to let him if that's what he wanted, Tsukishima found that he didn't want to.

Getting away with things just seemed to lose its appeal, when you knew you'd been caught. Even more so when you both know it's only by their good grace you're getting away with it.

"No, I don't." He kept eye contact with Yamaguchi, studying the way resignation filtered into pride and happiness before settling into contemplation.

When most people looked at Yamaguchi they saw freckles, nervous hands, and a shy smile. Tsukishima knew him long enough to see more. He saw the careful consideration, the sharp wit behind the nerves, and he wondered sometimes how he could get the boy to show it openly.

"Well," the brunet interupted his thoughts quietly, fingers picking at the comforter under them, "if it's not small it must be big."

Tsukishima was tempted to point out the idiocy of that statement but Yamaguchi spoke up before he could.

"If it's big than I'm sure he needs help carrying it," he was staring at him now with a smirk in his eyes though the nervous smile stayed where it was, "and we all know you're lousy help."

Tsukishima snorted derisively in response before roughly pushing the other boy off of him.

"Talking to the Captain it is, then."

 _"The strength of the team is each individual member. The strength of each member is the team."_

 _"We're a team. It's part of our job to help each other out, and to forgive each other quickly. Otherwise, we'd never get anything done."_


	11. Intervention

Daichi had resolved himself to asking Tsukishima to hang back after morning practice.

It was the earliest and most convenient time to get a hold of him and perhaps the least suspicious.

The rest of the team had a habit of clearing out rather quickly in the morning, fearful of being late and facing the resigned disappointment of their Advisor, Takeda.

Tsukishima, the ice wall he was, was fearless in the face of being a disappointment. Add in his freakishly long legs and tardiness was no foe of his. Often, him and Yamaguchi were second to last to leave, behind Daichi himself.

However, when Daichi turned around to call out to the blonde he found him already waiting right behind him.

The experience of being loomed over from a less than comforting distance by an ice cold titan was not one Daichi would recommend to others.

Luckily, he managed to transform his instinct to jolt in fear into a blinding smile.

"What can I do for you, Tsukishima?" He asked pleasantly, his death grip on his bag the only clue to his near heart attack.

Tsukishima frowned at him seriously as he always did before shifting uncomfortably on his feet.

"I need to talk to you," he said, eyes glancing to Yamaguchi who was not so subtly hanging around nearby, "if it's not any trouble." He added as an afterthought.

Daichi graciously ignored the obvious thumbs up Yamaguchi sent their way and the grimace Tsukishima wore in response.

"Oh? What about?" He asked curiously, despite knowing very well what this was about. He gave himself a mental pat on the back for his acting skills.

Tsukishima shifted his weight yet again. Daichi noted that although it wasn't too obvious, talking to someone he couldn't snark at without repercussions made Tsukishima uncomfortable.

"The recent Hinata incident." He finally responded, eyebrows furrowed in thought and, dare Daichi say, frustration.

"Ah," Daichi responded, eyes wandering the now empty gym before returning to Tsukishima, "yes, I've been meaning to talk to you about that."

This seemed to startle Tsukishima, as he nodded slowly at the Captain who gestured to follow him outside.

"We need to close up the gym but we can talk outside before classes start up," he explained as he made his rounds around the gym, checking to make sure everything was in order for the day, "Yamaguchi can come too, if he'd like."

The boy startled at the mention of his name and smiled nervously with a bow and a quiet thanks as he shuffled to the blonde's side.

The trio made their way out of the gym and around to the far side of the building where they could see the traffic flowing into the school proper, an awkward silence hanging around them.

For his part Daichi was struggling with the weight of leadership in the face of what was bound to become one of the most uncomfortable conversations of his life.

"So," he began unsurely, "the Hinata incident." He really didn't know how to start this conversation. Putting the burden to do so on his underclassmen may have been irresponsible but he was only 17. Let him be a little irresponsible for once in his life.

Tsukishima leveled him with the most unimpressed glare he'd seen from him yet. Which was fair.

"Yeah," he drawled, "that."

Silence reigned for a long moment until Daichi sighed in resignation. It seemed they were playing this game. He was willing to be the better man and concede. After all, classes would start before they got anything done at this rate.

"I assume that you two made up with each other?"

Tsukishima blinked at him in surprise before his eyes shifted to the left awkwardly.

"Yeah, something like that."

The answer was characteristically cryptic. Daichi already felt exhausted from his early start and fighting his way through this conversation was proving to be more trouble than he had expected. Luckily, his eavesdropping was able to tell him everything the other boy wouldn't.

Maybe Suga was onto something there.

"Well, that's good," he said brightly, stepping forward to pat the taller boy on his shoulder, "I'm proud of you guys. Resolving your own issues- you're all grown up aren't you?"

He chuckled fondly, before turning to walk toward the school building. If Tsukishima wanted to beat around the bush he'd deal with the consequences.

"Well, that's all I really wanted to hear so I'll see you both later, yeah?" He said, making a believable retreat.

The slight panic on Tsukishima's face was pretty funny, Daichi would admit.

"Ah, no- wait," the tall boy stuttered in surprise, "I'm not done."

Daichi stopped walking, turning to face the freshman with the best curious look he could manage.

Tsukishima sighed tiredly, as if this was all too much trouble, and Yamaguchi smiled at him in encouragement.

"Something's not right with the way Hinata overreacted," he started, bored gaze coming to meet Diachi's in a silent bid for understanding, "And I'm not just saying that to make myself look less guilty."

Tsukishima always was the most self aware of them. Daichi was impressed. If he hadn't been eavesdropping on their reconciliation that's exactly what he would have thought that the kid was trying to do.

But he had been and because of it he knew there was more to Tsukishima coming to him than awkward excuses. Tsukishima coming to him at all said a lot about whatever had passed between him and Hinata, actually.

"Alright. Then what's got you so worried about him?"

Tsukishima scrunched his face in dislike at the question but didn't correct him.

"It's obviously a sore spot. Like they way Kageyama used to react to being called 'King' but worse." He was looking around them disinterestedly, as if he really didn't care that much and was saying this for Daichi's benefit. "I just think someone should resolve his issues before someone else trips face first into it and the whole team ends up in a brawl."

Daichi... really didn't have anything to say about that. Tsukishima acting out of concern for someone else? Unheard of. Concern for the team? Now that was possible.

It was almost laughable, the way Daichi had thought he'd act in the interest of the red haired spiker. How silly of him.

"Right," he said blandly, "And as Captain you think it ought to be me to deal with it?"

Nevermind that he was right or that Daichi already was. Tsukishima's lack of concern was his own problem. Daichi was mature enough to admit that. It was just that Hinata would trip over his own feet to help Tsukishima even if they weren't really friends. Tsukishima would let Hinata drown in quicksand. And laugh too.

It was, by all rights, a little messed up. And it bothered him.

Tsukishima's eyes jerked back to his, surprise and defensiveness twisting his face into a haughty scowl.

"Team moral is your responsibility, isn't it?"

Well damn.

"Yeah, I guess it is."

They stared each other down as Yamaguchi awkwardly shifted on his feet, eyes flitting between the two in panic.

"Look," Tsukishima clenched his fists as of he was physically forcing himself to spit out the words, "Hinata's got issues. I'm barely qualified to be a teammate, let alone a therapist."

And well. That was as close as Tsukishima would ever come to admitting he gave a shit. Daichi would take it.

"Well, alright then," he said with a reassuring grin, "what's your hypothesis on his excessive reaction there, Freud?"

Tsukishima faltered in surprise at the sudden shift in demeanor. Then he scowled in what Daichi assumed was annoyance at the joke.

"It's a family thing." He muttered, annoyed and looking very ready to leave for first period.

"Yeah?" Asked Daichi in encouragement. He needed more to go on if he was supposed to do something about it.

"Have you noticed he never talks about them?" The blonde said, impatient. "When he does it's excessively fond, but he almost never does. Doesn't that strike you as a little out of character?"

Daichi hummed in agreement, quirking a brow in a gesture for the other to continue.

"All that and he snaps my head off when I jab at his sister? A kid we both know I don't know shit about." The blonde shrugged in a 'what can you do' gesture as he started to walk away in earnest. "Strikes me as something more than offense, Captain."

Daichi turned to watch him go, brow furrowed in thought and scowl firm on his face.

"Sorry he's like that," Yamaguchi smiled shakily at the elder, bringing himself to the Captain's attention, "but he really is worried. He just knows he's not any good at this kind of thing." He laughed awkwardly to himself before dipping his head in a bow.

"Thanks for your time, see you later!"

Daichi stared at their retreating figures.

Well. He'd gotten his answer.

Family problems, huh?

Who didn't have those?

This really wasn't his problem anymore. If it was some personal headspace Hinata had worked himself into that was within his powers to fix. If he needed a pep talk or some sage advice, Daichi could do it.

But this?

The ball was in Coach Ukai's court now.

* * *

"How is this my problem?" Keishin muttered at the high schooler standing awkwardly in front of him.

When he had agreed to sign on as coach to this team it had been for the rivalry against Nekoma. It just so happened that he had a point to prove to that Old Cat and would stay on until he'd done the job. The school had been amicable about his schedule and assured him that all problems with the students would be handled by the advisor.

Damn him. That Takeda had chosen the absolute worst time to go for- what the hell had he said? Additional teaching instruction? What was that? Supplementary classes for teachers? Why the hell would anyone agree to that?

"Well you're the only adult here, Coach." Said Sawamura, looking genuinely apologetic.

God, if the kid could have not been so hard working and reliable then maybe Keishin could have given him a hard time about it. As it was the kid had all but singlehandedly ran the team for a year.

It was probably a relief to be able to pass off problems like this.

He groaned in frustration, running his hands through his dyed hair as he shook his head.

"Fine, fine," he put his hands on his hips in irritation, "what, am I just supposed to ask the kid to bring his dad to practice or somethin'?"

Sawamura was laughing at him, the little shit. He could see it in the twitch of his mouth.

"No, you can just call him, Coach," he said, placatingly as if talking to an idiot, "parents put their contact information on Club Applications, remember?"

Keishin knew that, he really did. He just woke up way to early and he hadn't had a cigarette in hours. And the shipment for tea bags was late at the store, and really? It's almost winter they needed that or they'd sell out.

It's been a long time since he had to fill out a Club Application, alright?

"Right," he raised a hand to rub at his forehead tiredly, "I'll do that while you run warmups, I guess. Takeda owes me for this."

Sawamura chuckled good naturedly as he said his thanks, Keishin waving him away absently.

So. Hinata had family issues. No shit. Everyone had family issues. Why was he calling the kid's Dad about it?

Because Sugawara had a gut feeling.

And because Sawamura bought that shit.

And because for some reason, he trusted the kid's judgement. If Sawamura thought it would become a problem it probably would.

What the hell was he supposed to do about it? What was he supposed to say to this guy?

'Hey man, just calling to make sure you're not some secret monster causing psychological harm to children.'

Yeah. That'd do it.

He'd get kicked from his Coaching position in a heartbeat.

'Hey, just calling to make sure everything's fine with Shoyo. No nothing's wrong, he's just been slightly homicidal and it's killing our vibes.'

Inspired. Really, he was getting better at this the longer he stared at the wall blankly.

"Coach?" Kyoko spoke up quietly from beside him, causing him to startle from his thoughts.

"Uh, yeah?" He asked, blinking at her awkwardly.

She stared up at him with her dark eyes, concern glancing over them briefly before she handed him a paper.

"Hinata's Application."

"Oh," he stared at the paper for a moment, before taking it from her carefully, "thanks."

It was now or never.

With a nod at Sawamura across the gym he left to make the call outside, the shout of stretching counts muffled through the door.

Looking at the paper he snorted at the shitty handwriting that was undoubtedly Hinata's. There, underneath it in a much smaller, neater, print was a phone number for a legal guardian.

Presumably Mr. Hinata himself.

Keishin was seriously wondering how his life got to this point.

Granted the team had made plenty of calls to parents before -Nishinoya did get himself suspended from club activities after all- but none of that had been Keishin's buisness.

As far as he was concerned this wasn't his business either.

But it would be as soon as it started to effect the team.

With a deep breath, he dialed the number.

The other line picked up immediately.

"Hinata residence, how can I help you?" A gravely voice muttered tonelessly.

The guy sounded like a bored store clerk. Keishin could relate.

He felt himself relax. Slightly. This was still going to be weird as hell.

"Uh," he stumbled over his thoughts, be professional but don't sound like a douche, holy shit how did that groveler do this all the time, "this is Coach Ukai, from Karasuno High."

Silence crackled over the line for a long minute.

"What happened to Sho?"

The voice was decidedly less bored than before.

Jesus, the poor guy probably thought Keishin was calling about some freak volley ball accident that had killed his kid. Fuck.

"No, nothing, Hinata's fine," judging by the manic giggling from inside the gym he was more than fine, "don't worry I doubt he even could get hurt. Kid's made of rubber, I swear."

The kid flipped ass over end making receives every other day. His special move was receiving with his face. Keishin had once witnessed him full body slam the wall. The kid was indestructible.

Rough laughter from the phone jolted him out of his thoughts

"Yeah, he's pretty resilient." The man laughed with a pride in his son that soothed some of Keishin's darker fears. This guy obviously at least liked his son.

"But if he's not hurt, what's this about?" He asked curiously, the sound of shifting clothes and clinking metal crackling through the line.

"It's a-," Keishin struggled to find the right wording before just going for it, "a behavior issue, in a way."

Once again silence reigned, interspersed with the sound of what appeared to be a ratchet turning. What the hell was this guy doing?

A snicker broke the silence. Keishin had a strange moment of deja vu. He didn't like that laugh. It was different from the warm one he'd heard earlier and it sounded like trouble.

"Le' me guess," Hinata said, sounding distracted but amused, "It's about that little tiff with Tsukishima or whoever, right?"

Keishin blinked in surprise. Okay, so this guy obviously cared about his son and also had a pretty good idea of what was going on in his life.

He seemed alright so far. Keishin wasn't having any red flags or weird vibes except a little mischief.

"Yes, actually it is." He said, a little relieved that he wouldn't have to explain the whole situation.

"So, did he deck him in the face, or what?"

Keishin took it back, this guy was a terrible role model.

"God, I wish."

And so was he.

If he'd said that to any other parent he'd probably lose his position but he had a feeling Hinata didn't really care.

And Tsukishima was a good kid, but even Keishin could admit that had he been ten years younger and subjected to the kid's sense of humor he wouldn't be as nice as the other kids were.

Keishin was reminded of how much self restraint these boy's were capable of. They were pretty good kids, all together.

Still Tsukishima could be a prick and he really needed to go through some kind of self revelation or something.

Hinata laughed loudly on the other end of the line, something clanging to the ground between his laughter. He cursed before he presumably picked it up, if his grunts of exertion were any indication.

"So, what's it about if he didn't haul off and hit the kid? I'm assuming they made up?"

Keishin laughed lightly in response.

"Yeah, I guess they did," he hummed, "they aren't snapping at each other's throats at least."

An amused snort sounded over the line.

"Still, the entire thing was out of character for Hinata," Keishin said, sobering up, "I just need to make sure that it doesn't escalate."

A contemplative hum was the only answer he got from the father on the other end of the call. The sound of the ratchet turning was the only punctuation to the awkward moment.

"You think it's a problem in his home-life?" Came Hinata's rough voice eventually, mild and curious.

Keishin didn't want to come across as rude or a busybody, but he couldn't deny the reason he'd called.

"Yes, I suppose I do." He put as much conviction into the statement as possible. When throwing around accusations like that you had to be sure of it.

"Well," came the lazy reply, slow and thoughtful, "what makes you think so?"

And well, Keishin hadn't thought he'd get this far.

He'd fully expected for the man to start yelling at him or to hang up and call some school official. I mean, some coach nobody ever heard of calling and accusing him of not raising the perfect family? That was the kind of thing Keishin had had heard horror stories about. This is why faculty advisors, who had been trained to tactfully deal with parents, were supposed to do this.

Keishin only wanted to run his general store in peace.

"It isn't a team issue," he said in reply, and he was surprised by how sure he was of that. Hinata had nothing going on in the team to make him unstable. He would have noticed or at the very least one of the third year's would have.

"Alright." Said Hinata in acceptance. There was an unspoken bid to continue that Keishin knew better than to ignore.

"It doesn't seem like regular high school drama, either." Certainly Hinata was friendly and had made quite the roster of friends outside of volley ball. Tanaka was an uncontrollable gossip and would have been hard pressed to shut up if he thought one of Hinata's friends was causing him problems. He'd probably try to form a posse to go intimidate them half to death.

The lack of a roiling mob of blood thirsty high schoolers discounted that theory.

So naturally, if the problem wasn't at school it must have been at home.

Keishin said as much.

The elder Hinata sighed in what sounded like agreement.

"Well," he muttered, a strained sound as he apparently moved if the shuffling on the line was any indication, "I'll talk to him about it. I've got a pretty good idea about what the issue is, I don't think it'll be a problem."

Keishin sighed in relief at the words. Just like that, it wasn't his problem anymore. And what's more the other man was being surprisingly receptive to his meddling.

"Although," Hinata said suddenly, a chuckle that sent Keishin's guard up coming over the line, "You should probably make sure that Tsukishima boy watches his mouth. Shoyo can be pretty passionate, I'm sure you understand."

Keishin suddenly felt like he was being threatened. Over the phone. By some middle aged guy with two kids.

And yet.

"I can talk to Shoyo about his temper all I want," the man continued, jarringly casual for all the sharpness of his words, "But teenagers have a mind of their own. I'm sure I don't need to tell you that, though."

"Yeah." Keishin murmured in reply.

He was, to his own surprise, sufficiently intimidated.

Keishin had not been intimidated by another person like that in a very long time.

And never had anyone managed it over the phone, that he could remember.

"Thanks for looking out for him, though," Hinata said, genuinely sincere, as if he hadn't just been threatening his son's coach, "I really do appreciate it, Ukai."

"Sure thing," he said numbly, "that's my job."

And he definitely didn't get paid enough for it.

* * *

 _"It's easier to build strong children, than to mend broken men."_


	12. Change, Once AGain

Shoyo was having a good day.

A very good day.

He'd made up with Shittyshima. He'd made progress on getting around his- frustratingly effective- blocks, he'd gotten a solid passing grade in his history class, and he'd worn himself out in afternoon practice.

Him and Kageyama had been in perfect sync, working together in a way that was rare even for them. They'd been clicking in the kind of base, instinctual way that they only managed once every hundred tries, a way that always left him breathless, and giddy, and powerful. It made him feel like he could do anything, go anywhere, _be_ anything as long as he had Kageyama behind him, by his side, ever watching, ever adjusting, ever _perfectly_ capable of understanding him just where and when he needed him to.

It was with thoughts like these, as he huffed into the soft blue scarf that smelled just like his best and only partner, biking his way with sore legs over a mountain, that Shoyo realized that maybe he was an even bigger idiot than he thought. How could he not have seen this crush from a mile away?

It was obvious.

And why shouldn't it be?

As he stepped through his front door, calling out a greeting, he thought it ought to be.

He was young, and high-strung, and had the whole world in front of him, why shouldn't he fall into a stupid kind of love with a stupid setting obsessed jerk that couldn't even give a proper compliment without blushing to his ears?

He hugged his little sister and kissed his Grandmother on the cheek and smiled so wide his cheeks started to ache.

He lived a normal life and that meant that the bloom of his youth was just that - a time for blooming.

And falling in love with cute jerks who happened to be pretty alright, after all.

It was with this kind of naive enthusiasm that he walked into the dining room, intent on a warm greeting for his Dad when he stopped short.

Shoyo was always a happy kid.

He wasn't prone to bouts of moodiness, or letting others get to him overmuch. Some had gone as far as to say that he couldn't read a room to save his life. He would argue that he very well could, he just made a concerted effort to raise the mood of the room in response.

So it was that the mood of this particular room presented an unprecedented effort to his cheerfulness.

Because Dad was sitting there, in his old sweatpants, and his nasty green crocs, but his back was ramrod straight and his face was tense in a way that Shoyo had once forced himself to unlearn the meaning of.

Because that bearing of his once portended the worst parts of Shoyo's childhood.

Because it proved his cheerful musings wrong every goddamn time.

Because it reminded him that he didn't actually live a normal life - not really.

He smiled at his father and felt the veneer crumble away.

Just a little - just a bit - because he smiled so warm, and so nice, and just like he always did because he loved his kids, and his mother-in-law, and their cute little house, in this cute little town, in this backwater little prefecture.

But his eyes were cold and gold and Shoyo very suddenly felt his Very-Good-Day become one of those Days-He-Didn't-Like-To-Think-About.

He remembered then that he just pretended. That they all just pretended.

That they all played house in this cute little two-story home when they all knew that the home they came from, the home they still had to slink back to every year for family gatherings, was huge and grand and monstrously cold.

They all smiled and laughed as Shoyo fought hard for the only thing that ever held his interest - really kept it for longer than the time it took him to learn it and get bored - so much that some kids in his class had once told him he'd die for the sport and he wasn't so sure that they were wrong.

While Natsu did the same.

She ran, and she stretched, and she flew, until her little legs were all red and sore and bruised and Shoyo kept telling her, over and over again, 'just stop when it hurts, Natsu,' over and over, 'please Natsu, for Big Brother, just stop when it hurts,' and she'd looked up at him with her angry little amber eyes that just didn't understand and ask him, 'Why, Sho? You never stop when it hurts and neither does Daddy and that's why you both got so so good and I wanna be good too! I wanna be the best, Brother,' and he didn't know what to say because he was so sorry - he was so _so_ sorry because he didn't know how to stop when it felt so _right_ and he didn't know how to teach his sister a lesson his father had never taught him-

And they all smiled while his father left in the night for months and months and they never knew what he was doing, or where he was going, or when he'd be back. They kept smiling even though every time he came home it was in the dead of night with fewer clothes than the time before and looking older and more tired than Shoyo had seen anyone, ever, in his life.

And as the years went it felt more and more like he was never there because he left fewer and fewer things behind. And it felt more and more like it was just the three of them alone in this house, eyes glancing over two empty seats instead of one.

One that would sometimes seat a ghost dressed in his nice pressed suit or his ugly green shoes, and the other always empty but always used, and Shoyo knew that Natsu thought it was brown but he knew that, really, that chair was red red red-

And his grandmother smiled at these children that she only just learned to know and that reminded her of a daughter she'd rather forget.

And they smiled and pretended that this was normal.

But he was dense, and he didn't really think an awful lot, so he tended to forget the reasons he had not to smile.

He tended to forget that he was pretending altogether.

Because he had always lived in the present and what his life was now was so much nicer and so much realer than anything he could vaguely remember from fragments of nasty little nightmares he couldn't be sure were real.

Because who wants to think about all that crap when you've got grades to stress over?

When you fall in love with a sport and it makes you so happy and uses you up so much that there's nothing left to use for thinking and remembering and feeling bad.

When you make funny, talented, interesting friends.

When you can focus on cracking jokes with Noya and Tanaka. When you have to waste brain power arguing with Tsukishima while trying not to get sucked into Yamaguchi's giggling. When you can spend every day bickering with a grumpy, dense, argumentative boy whose fringe gets in his face too much and who lets you lean into his side while he's critiquing your latest play.

He doesn't have the time or the energy or the brain power to feel bad about things.

He makes sure he doesn't.

But when Dad gets that look in his eyes, the warm honey veneer starts to peel away from his life. The bright wallpaper dulls a little bit and he can see that even his Grandmother looks strained around the eyes - because she knows too.

This life that they lived was just a hide away from the real world that they had been running from. And Dad always got that cold look in his eye when he couldn't run any more.

They were content to play house here even knowing that Dad couldn't ever really divorce himself from their old life enough to join them completely.

Usually they'd let him slink back to the places they used to be, alone, in the dark, unremarked - because you didn't celebrate his goings only his coming homes.

But sometimes, he'd bring back nasty little gifts from the old days that he forgot to shed at the door.

And sometimes he couldn't shove them all into the pockets of his suits in time to keep them from Shoyo.

So when Natsu was put to bed and the three of them sat at the dining table, and when Shoyo finally finished struggling through his homework, the curtain came down on their little charade.

"Coach Ukai called today," Dad said, casual and unconcerned, lighting a cigarette between his fingers and that was how Shoyo really knew things weren't okay.

Dad had bought this house when Grandma came to live with them.

They'd all come out and looked at the flowers in the yard and the pretty bright wallpaper and he'd said, "Here this is for you - the three of you - and it's your house, so please - help me raise these kids."

And Grandma had cried and agreed.

It was the first time he could remember ever seeing her cry, even after all that had brought them to the front door of this little house that would be a home. And they'd all hugged and Natsu was confused – always confused and that made Shoyo happy so much sometimes - that there were things that she would never remember because she was small, so small.

Grandma hated smoke in her house.

But right now this was Dad's house.

And that scared Shoyo a little bit.

The last time they'd lived in Dad's house things had been very different.

"Y-yeah?" His voice trembled and he hated it.

He hated that now he wasn't as tired as he had been, and he was thinking, and it made him remember the way that his mother would scold him for stuttering like that.

Dad's eyes were sharp and amber and Shoyo had almost forgotten the days when he'd ever looked at him like that.

He'd gotten too used to the warmth and the pride and the affection that he'd forgotten to keep his guard up and what would she say if she knew?

His father just hummed in agreement and nodded a little bit, taking a drag of his cigarette, and contemplating the way he held it.

As if he hadn't been smoking since he was Shoyo's age and the act was strange and new to him.

The smell filled the air and it was acrid.

Shoyo felt his eyes start to burn and he told himself it was only the smoke licking at them and not the shadow of memories that it brought skulking out.

"He was asking after your home life," Dad said at last, tapping out a rhythm on an old cup in lieu of an ash tray, "thought that your spat with Moon-boy was out of character. Probably a sign of a bigger problem, or something."

Shoyo blinked at him rapidly, confused and not quite getting what his father was trying to say. Why had Coach gone and done that anyway? Why not just ask him?

He hadn't even known that Coach was aware that the two of them had been fighting.

Dad took a deep drag this time, more of a smoke infused sigh than a proper huff, and Shoyo felt a burning shame that he hadn't felt in near a decade.

He'd forgotten what it felt like to have his father be anything but proud of him.

"What's going on with you, Sho?" He asked, cold, and a little detached in a way that Shoyo had come to associate with bad memories and counselor's offices where Dad would leave halfway through whatever it was that they were trying to get done. And he really hated that Dad had chosen now of all times to call him nicknames because that shouldn't sound like that, Dad shouldn't use that name like that, it felt wrong, and it _hurt_.

Dad was so far away across that little wooden table that it might as well have been an ocean for all the distance in his eyes.

Shoyo couldn't say anything, couldn't open his mouth, couldn't even think of what to say - too caught up in the feeling of that voice, of being talked to like that by a man who was slowly becoming less of his Dad and more like the Father that he used to be. The one he'd been almost ten years ago and that Shoyo thought had died a long painful death in a red red chair.

This couldn't be the same version of his Dad because everything this father said _hurt hurt hurt._

And Shoyo felt more alone than he could ever remember feeling.

"Shoube," murmured his Grandmother in warning, and Shoyo had nearly forgotten that she was there. He'd been staring at Father too long, trying to find Dad in there somewhere, wondering where he'd gone, to notice her.

Father didn't spare her a glance. He just kept tap, tap, tapping that cigarette and Shoyo remembered how much he had always hated the smell.

"I," and his voice cut out and it was the same chiding voice of his mother that dried his throat before he continued with a rasp, "I don't know what you mean, sir."

And just like that everything was different and back to the way it had been.

Shoyo was just a little kid trembling in his seat.

Staring with unblinking raptor eyes at a father who didn't have time for his failure or his slowness and Mother chiding at him in the background softly, but he knew her arms would be crossed, and her face would be tight, and she was so much angrier than Father ever was. Because she cared and he never did - until he did that one time - and Grandma was watching but she pretended that she wasn't because she was afraid too, he could tell-

But that wasn't the same, was it?

Because Father was sitting in Dad's chair and wearing Dad's sweats and his ugly green shoes and he had driven him to school and helped him with his homework naught ten minutes ago. And they sat in Grandma's kitchen with its bright bright wallpaper and the red chair was always always empty.

And his hand was still sore from where Kageyama had sent him the perfect spike.

He clenched that hand and felt it burn and finally, finally blinked.

Fath - Dad noticed.

His frown deepened, just a bit, but it wasn't as hard as it had been, more worried than disapproving.

Some of the distance in his eyes receded and Shoyo felt the hollow ache of fear in chest ease at the concern flickering behind the amber, the realization and the flash of guilt.

And that was different too.

Because Father never would have noticed a little thing like that, wouldn't have known him well enough to be concerned - wouldn't have been even if he did.

But Dad did and he was and Shoyo felt himself relax just a little.

Father wouldn't have had the patience to wait for Shoyo to find his way out of that big empty mansion, but Dad had always waited for him, no matter how long.

Because he was his Dad's son and not Father's, because he'd learned a long time ago that Father only existed when Dad didn't know how to move forward.

Shoyo saw the laugh lines that Father didn't have back then, and he saw the forehead creases from the constant worrying, and the crow's feet from all the times he rubbed at his eyes tiredly because he never slept, and he always worked, and Shoyo remembered that Dad was stumbling through cold dark halls too.

"Family's the most important thing," he said, and he was sure of himself even if his voice shook more than he'd like. But he knew that the old mantra-

The 'Shoyo, say it again and I'll let you play outside', the 'Stand in the corner and say it a hundred times over- I'm counting', the 'come here and tell me what the number one rule is'-

Had a different meaning now because she wasn't looming over him this time and no one was making him say it and he _meant_ it and in more than just the people in this house.

Because Father was a mask and not the all encompassing fear that she had made him into.

He swallowed past his dry throat and kept his eyes on that chair because she can't loom behind him anymore and he knows that now.

"I can't stop Natsu from doing the same thing we all do, hurting herself like that all the time, but I can stop Tsukishima from making fun of her for it," he felt his resolve as sure as he felt a solid spike, tearing his eyes from the ghost in one chair to the living ghost in the other, he set his jaw and carried on, "I'm going to do what I can to prove that it's all worth something, at least."

Grandma was looking at him in surprise, a little pale, and a little sick.

Dad sighed tiredly.

He rubbed at his eyes and Shoyo was reminded of that night he came home. How he tried so hard to hide how exhausted he was and how pitiful it all seemed when even an idiot like Shoyo could see right through him.

He knew that Grandma was afraid because in that moment he'd looked terribly like his father.

Looking at him now, stern frame slumping over the table, weighed down with so much, Shoyo could understand why that frightened her.

He could understand why Dad loathed the idea too.

He knew that they were all afraid that he'd grow so weary, and haunted, and sad if things kept going the way that they were.

That when things were difficult, he'd go cold and detached too. That he'd walk out of the room before he ever had to face someone that mattered because he was already so tired.

That he'd stare down his children across a dining table like they were strangers in a business meeting and not his own flesh and blood.

That he'd only let himself close enough to see the hurt when it was too late.

That he'd shine so much he'd burn himself up before he was even able to retire.

Even still, despite the weight in his tired amber eyes and the strange cloying guilt that he was careful not to let into his smile, Shoyo thought that he wouldn't mind if he could be half the man that his Dad was.

Because he'd done so much, been through so much, changed so much – for Natsu and him, he knew that, never forgot it, not for a moment – and he was still strong and bright and kind even if he sometimes faltered and forgot that.

And that was all that Shoyo could ever hope to be.

This was where Shoyo had learned how to shine, and this was where he'd learned to burn himself out.

Because he was the son of a terrible burning star and even the sun is just an explosion that burns out.

And Dad was coming so close that it broke his heart.

Because he didn't mind it so much himself, but he loved his dad and his sister too much to let them all meet the same end.

Because he couldn't stop them when he couldn't stop himself, so the least he could do is make sure that they knew it wasn't for nothing.

And maybe he was being fatalistic.

Maybe in his every day, perfect, make- believe world all that this amounted to was a sports injury and a crushed dream.

But in the real world - his real life, when you tore away the bright wallpaper, and left only red red chairs - it all added up to dying young and scared and tired.

"Sho," Dad said, sighed, groaned, like it tore him up, whatever it was that he was about to say, "Shoyo, you can't- It's not your job to do that for us, son."

And there he was again, not hiding anymore behind that impersonal mask but sighing and grumbling and warm, so very concerned about his only son.

Things were different now.

Shoyo had been scared for a moment but now he felt a little dumb for reacting so badly.

What had he gotten so scared for?

A sour look and some macho front and somehow, he'd thought all these years of hard work and change and healing would be undone? Stupid.

None of them were who they used to be.

Things had changed, they'd all changed, and none of it had been by chance. They had, all of them, struggled to get where they were, so far removed from the past that Shoyo had nearly forgotten it all until now.

"So what?" He asked, impertinent and impatient as he ever was, arms crossed and childish pout on his face. As if he hadn't been one sharp word from a panic attack not a minute ago. "Do I need a reason to fight for family?"

Dad clenched his fist harshly, crushing his still smoldering cigarette in his hand, as he grimaced at Shoyo in a way that he knew had less to do with him and more to do with Dad.

Shoyo wondered if his hand burned.

"No," Dad said, slow and patient, - Dad was always patient with him and Shoyo could drown in the warmth of that feeling - dumping his wasted cigarette in the cup and shaking his hand out half-heartedly. Whether he was trying to soothe the burn or rid himself of the ash, Shoyo didn't know, "of course not. It's just-"

He paused, scowled at Shoyo a moment longer before his eyes softened, that sadness creeping around the edges, as he leaned toward his son across the table.

"I thought that you didn't want to fight, Sho."

There was a moment of heavy quiet, Shoyo's thoughts stuttering over what his Dad had just said, what he'd meant, jumping back to his past actions – that dumb fight – thinking about the implicit violence in it, the threat, how easily it could have gone wrong. If it had been someone else, someone less familiar with him, someone more willing to hold their ground, it could have gone so wrong so fast and then where would he be? How could he explain that to his Dad, to his Grandma? To the team?

To Kageyama?

"Those are two different things, and you know it, Shoube," snapped his grandmother, harsh and angry in a way that Shoyo had learnt to be wary of.

"Are they?" Dad snapped back, lightning quick and just as harsh, as if he'd expected her rebuttal before it even came.

As if this was an old argument, worn thin, and practiced to the point of exhaustion.

"Of course they are," she replied, hands coming to rest harshly on the table top, heedless of the way it made Shoyo flinch, "this is just a little school yard tiff! You're making this out to be something it's not and I won't stand for it!"

"Since when did school yard tiffs end with someone calling to check on Shoyo's home life?" Shoube answered back, false calm falling back into place, relaxed and aloof, and all a front meant to protect him, Shoyo knew, but none the less frightening for it, "Why not just give him detention? A suspension if things got physical? They're not even punishing him, Mom, don't you think they'd have done something else before calling me? There's an order to these things and they're not following it."

"So what?" She scoffed, indignant and dissatisfied at his lack of reaction, practiced as it was, "maybe the coach is more invested in the lives of his players than strictly necessary, what of it? Since when was it a crime to care about a child you've taken charge of? I'd think you'd be happy," she paused then, a split moment of hesitation before her temper overcame it and she rushed onward, "after all, the man spends more time with your son than you do."

And Shoyo's breath caught at that, acid burning at the back of his throat, and he made to stand and yell something – he didn't know what. She was his grandmother and he'd never yelled at her in anger before, could never have fathomed it, but that was out of line even for her.

But Dad beat him to it, slamming a fist on the table in a mirror of the elderly woman, eyes molten and deadly even as he visibly reigned in his temper.

They stared at each other for a moment, Shoyo looking between them and not knowing what to do, a tension suffocating them all slowly.

Grandma looked sorry, but Shoyo knew her better than to think that she'd take back her words. She never said anything that she didn't think was true, and this was one of those unspoken truths of the Hinata household.

Shoube was not home more than a few months a year and she had been left to raise he and Natsu both.

"Maybe," Dad spoke, at last, quiet and heavy in the charged silence, "but that doesn't change the fact that now there will be more eyes on this family than there were before."

His fist unclenched, coming to smooth back his unruly hair, in a gesture startlingly suave for a man in sweats. He lit another cigarette slowly even as Grandma tensed, cowed but still just as proud and stubborn as the rest of them.

"And that, my boy," he said, gravely but not unkindly as he turned his golden eyes to Shoyo, "is on you."

" **God damn it** , Shoube!" Grandma snapped then, strained and a little desperate, and Shoyo stared dumbfounded at the foul sounding English. Angry tears began to shine in her eyes even as she leapt to her feet, "He's just a boy, isn't he entitled to an outburst or two?!"

Shoube clenched his jaw, quick to respond and heedless of his volume – she'd already begun to yell so he saw no point in keeping his voice down anymore.

It wasn't the Hinata way to do things quietly.

"You think I don't know that!?" And he was angry now, genuinely upset, and Shoyo thought that maybe that should have scared him, but he'd been afraid of his Father once and that man had never shouted, not ever. "I'd give anything to let him have as many fucking outbursts as he wants but we just can't afford that- not in our situation!"

She glared at him for a moment, grinding her teeth, aged face contorted in such an anger that Shoyo didn't think he'd ever seen.

They'd never argued like this in front of him before, though he knew they'd had plenty of shouting matches behind closed doors.

He remembered, in the early days, laying in his bed most nights listening to muffled angry voices through the floor boards, wondering what was being said, wondering what he could do.

Now he wondered if Natsu was doing the same as she lay in her own little bed.

"When I agreed to move into this house and raise these children," Grandma began, venom in her voice that hadn't been there before, an old pain springing up in her eyes, "you promised me that you'd keep them out of your damned mess!"

"And how the hell do you propose I do that if someone comes prying into my damn _mess_ because of his little outburst?" Dad snapped back, angry and – to everyone's surprise – just at the same edge of desperation as she was, "How am I supposed to keep him out of this mess if he brings it down onto this house? They don't just call kids homes like that unless they've caught wind of something foul."

The sound of Grandma's chair slamming into the table as she threw it away from her in disgust echoed through the house.

"The only thing foul in this house is you, Hinata Shoube!"

She left then, angry and crying a little as she took her keys out the front door with her, but too proud to be in the same house as Shoube a second longer.

Silence reigned in that dining room for a long time, the two of them staring at the cracks in the chair's smooth finish.

Yet more scratches on the old thing. Tattered as it was, Shoyo worried it wouldn't survive another blow like that.

"I'm sorry, Shoyo," Dad said, after a moment, quiet and tired, eyes dull and never leaving that old chair, "We shouldn't have said all that in front of you."

And Shoyo was still tense but he kept reminding himself that things were different.

Because Grandma had yelled at Dad and that wasn't possible before.

And Dad had apologized, and for the both of them too, and somehow that made the slam of the front door settle from where it had been ringing in Shoyo's ears.

Shoyo smiled a little, innocuous and a little out of place in the situation and shook his head.

"It's fine," he said, awkward even as he tried to comfort his Dad, "I'm not a kid anymore, I think that I can handle a fight or two."

Shoube dragged his gaze away from Grandma's empty chair and finally looked at Shoyo, eyes a little dull, a little glassy, and very very sad.

"You aren't anymore, are you?" He sighed and leaned his face on his unoccupied hand as he bent over the table, contemplating Shoyo like he'd never seen him before this exact moment.

"Shoyo," he said, slowly, seriously, "I know it might seem like I'm overreacting, but this could become a real problem for us. I want you to understand that."

Shoyo nodded at him hastily, confused but eager to please in light of the situation.

Shoube shook his head slightly and smiled a little, amused as ever by Shoyo's antics.

"Things have gotten a little dicey out there lately," he confided, sucking on his cigarette with a frown once more, "folks have been looking our way more than I would like, and not the nice kind either. We've managed to keep the three of you out of it by keeping our heads down. Now isn't the time for a teenage rebellion or whatever this is."

Shoyo twisted his face up slightly, defense rushing to his tongue quicker than he knew what it was he was going to say.

"I wasn't rebelling!" He insisted, leaning closer over the table, "I told you I was just trying to prove to Tsukishima that Natsu's crazy skills are from all her hard work! I wasn't trying to make trouble, I swear, I just," he twisted up his face in frustration, "He said all that dumb crap and it made me feel all 'argggh' and I couldn't help but to show him up!"

"Maybe so," Dad replied with a hum, a little bemused by Shoyo's rambling even as he tried to impress how serious he was onto him, "but the fact is that whatever kind of anger or indignation or – _whatever_ that was _,_ raised more than a few eyebrows in that gym. And whether you want them to or not, they're going to be keeping a closer eye on you. And me too, it seems."

Shoyo felt his skin crawl, memories of cold marble halls and ever watching eyes making sure he was always on his best behavior, looking presentable, learning the 'right things' assaulting him at the thought.

Suddenly Dad's hand was reaching over to cover his, shaking him from that thought.

"Shoyo," he said, eyes warm and fond, and Shoyo was about to take back what he said about not being a kid anymore because just now he felt all of eight years old staring at his dad fighting away all the monsters in the dark, "I'm gonna make sure that you're okay, alright? I just need you to help make it a bit easier for me, is all. I know it's not fair and I wish I could give you all the room that you need," he paused, rethought, looked frustrated, "all the room that you _deserve_ to grow and throw fits and fight jerks after practice but we just don't have that luxury."

He looked so so tired, and Shoyo knew it was dumb to keep getting hung up on that – that he had to pay attention to what he was being told, but this whole conversation just kept looping back to that fact and Shoyo couldn't help but wonder how much of that weariness was because of him.

"I know," he said, quick and quiet, and guilty in a way that he tried not to let himself wallow in for more than a moment lest he drown in it and never crawl back out, "I know, I'll be good from now on, I swear. Tsukishima's not gonna get a peep out of me, I promise, no matter what he says! And I'll pass all my classes and everything, and nobody will be interested in anything but my volleyball games, I swear!"

He was clenching his Dad's hand on the table now, eager to be believed and Shoube looked surprised, and just as guilty as Shoyo was- he couldn't figure out why.

It was Shoyo that had messed this up.

He'd been the one that hadn't thought about what he was doing, who let his anger get to him. He'd been the one to almost hurt a teammate, he'd been the one to divide the team like that, he'd been the one to divide his _family_ like that, and now there was one more empty chair at the table. And he knew she'd come back – she promised – but a part of him was so scared that there would forever be another empty chair and it would be all his fault, _again-_

"I believe you, Sho," Dad said, quiet and so so very sad, he wasn't even trying to hide it anymore, and suddenly Shoyo was crying.

He'd always been a bit of a crybaby – excitable as he was – and his friends always made a point of how loud and obnoxious he was about the whole thing.

But now he was quiet.

He was so dreadfully quiet, sobbing painfully without breath as the tears came without a sound. It was the way he'd cried as a child, alone and scared in a cold room with no one to comfort him because there were better things to do and he was just in the way.

So he was surprised when he heard the rough scrape of Dad's chair on the floor, and even more surprised when he was being hauled up out of his own and into an embrace so tight he felt like his ribs would break.

"I'm sorry," came a hoarse voice and Shoyo thought it was funny how alike they were because Dad cried quietly too, "you shouldn't have to worry about this. I shouldn't be _making_ you worry about this- I'm so so _sorry_ , Sho."

And Shoyo found his voice, and now he was sobbing for all he was worth, the way he did in front of his friends, loud and unabashed. And he thought that he'd definitely woken Natsu by now, as he cried into his father's ratty old Army shirt.

"It'll get better," Dad whispered, "I'll make it better, Sho, I promise."

Shoyo didn't get it, didn't know how this ache would ever get better, but Dad had made that promise once a long time ago and it had. It had gotten so much better, and even this guilt shadowed by ghosts of the past was so much kinder then the pain he'd felt back then.

Dad had whisked them out of that old cursed mansion like a knight in a fairy tail, and all Shoyo had to do was keep the magic going a little longer, while he sorted out whatever mess was brewing beyond their castle.

Just a little longer.

And Shoyo knew that he could do it, knew he could check his temper, mind his surroundings.

There were lessons that had been drilled into him a lifetime ago by a woman who was no longer there. They were just the thing that was being asked of him now – the rules to this game – and Shoyo thought it was a bit funny in a way.

Dad had spent so long working to overcome those lessons, told Shoyo for so long that they didn't matter, that Shoyo could do whatever he wanted, that none of those rules applied anymore.

But now he was asking him to fall back on those old lies.

Maybe they were different people now but their bedrock foundation would never change.

And Mother had raised him to make his Father proud.

* * *

"A lot of parents will do anything for their kids except let them be themselves."

A/N:

Hello, everyone.  
I'm sorry that this chapter has taken so long but I've been through a lot of life changes and haven't had the time to get to it.  
Ret assured that I haven't given up on this story and I have a lot of ideas for it going on.  
All of your comments and support have made it possible for me to get back into it and I'm incredibly grateful.  
I can't promise frequent updates in the future but rest assured that I'm still on it!  
If you have any questions, comments, or concerns please let me know!


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